Bound For All Eternity
by emospritelet
Summary: Remix of The Long Game. Gold finds Belle as he was meant to in this life, and 16-year old Belle is wondering why she feels so incredibly drawn to him. Their meeting leads her to Storybrooke, to new friends Ruby, Snow and Emma, and a life-changing realisation. Eventual smut (but nothing illegal). Cover art by Emilie Brown.
1. An unexpected Encounter

**A/N: This started out as a Long Game one-shot, but developed into something more, so I just ran with it. Welcome to the remix, my lovelies.**

**Mockorangeflower prompt: '****Had Gold ever thought of not waking Belle, or regretting having to wake her up in one of their past lives? Maybe he hoped just to live and love, for once?' **

**MyraValhallah prompt: 'I'd love to see what would happen if these two met as they were 'supposed to' this time around'. ****Also prompted by deweymay and JosephineM.**

**So, this is an AU of an AU, people. Cue Gold being slightly creepy with a 16-year old Belle. FYI there will be no underage smut in this fic (except for Belle thinking dirty, dirty thoughts). There will, however, be perfectly legal smut. Eventually.**

* * *

Belle French considered herself to be a sensible, level-headed girl, not given to flights of fancy (unless she was buried in a book). She had reached the age of sixteen having only experienced one date (an unmitigated disaster involving a guy in her class with a fake smile and wandering hands), and had little interest in going on another with any of the boys she knew. She had assumed that, if she ever did have a relationship, it would be after she left home, perhaps when she went to college. It wasn't as though she wasn't attracted to the opposite sex, it was merely that she always seemed to think of more interesting things to do with her Friday nights and weekends. Which was why her reaction upon meeting her father's new lawyer came as such a surprise to her.

The sweet smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies was spreading through the house, and Belle wandered through to the kitchen, her nose in her book. She had taken the cookies from the oven fifteen minutes earlier, and they were cooling on a wire rack. She picked one up and bit into it, enjoying the warm sweetness as her eyes scanned the page she was reading. The sound of the front door opening barely registered with her, and she flicked over the page, chewing her mouthful of cookie as she turned on her heel to go back into the lounge. The sound of voices in the hallway made her glance up briefly, and a small, detached part of her (the part that prevented her from walking under moving cars and bumping into people whilst reading as she walked along) noticed that her father was standing there, another man next to him.

"Belle." Her father's voice made her look up and meet his eye with a smile, and she took another bite of her cookie as she did so. Her eyes strayed to the man beside him. The man was in his early forties, she thought, with brown hair that hung down past his collar, beginning to grey at the temples, and he carried a cane with an ornate gold handle. He was short, only a few inches taller than her, and thin, dressed immaculately in a three-piece suit that fitted him perfectly. His shirt was charcoal grey, his tie and the silk handkerchief in his pocket dark red. He had a slight smile on his face as he watched her, and his deep brown eyes ran over her before meeting hers. She almost choked on the cookie as it felt as though she'd been punched in the gut. She suddenly wished that she'd worn something other than baggy sweats and an old T-shirt when she got back from her run, and wondered where the thought came from. The man's smile widened, and a tide of red seemed to spread up her chest and neck and cover her face.

"Belle, this is Mr Gold, my new lawyer." Thank God for her father! Belle was having difficulty explaining the strange feelings coursing through her. Familiarity, as though she _knew _him, even though she was aware they had never met before.

"Gold, this is my daughter, Belle," continued Maurice, and Belle managed to swallow her mouthful of cookie and tuck her book under her arm as Mr Gold extended a hand towards her. His fingers sent electric shocks through her as he slid his palm across hers, grasping her hand. There was a heavy gold ring with a bluish-grey stone on his third finger. Her breath hitched as his fingers closed around hers.

"Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss French," he said, in an accented voice. Belle's brain helpfully provided the origin of his accent as Scottish, and she opened her mouth.

"Likewise," she said, trying not to stammer. What the hell was _wrong_ with her?

He held her hand a moment longer than she was entirely comfortable with, still smiling at her, and she was finding it difficult to tear her eyes away. His eyes dropped to her lips, and Belle's blush deepened as she realised she could feel a smear of chocolate there. Great. So she ate like a three year old. Fantastic.

"Belle, honey, could you make us a drink?" asked Maurice, and she gave herself a mental shake, dropping Gold's hand and backing away a little, scrubbing at her mouth with the back of her hand. Yep. Chocolate. Well, that was just brilliant.

"I'd like tea, if you have it," Gold said, pulling her attention from the smear of melted chocolate on her skin, and she felt herself blushing again.

"Right," she said vaguely, and walked back to the kitchen, filling the kettle and leaning on the kitchen counter as she took a few deep breaths. She licked the chocolate from her skin, as there was no point in letting it go to waste, and wiped her mouth thoroughly with a dishtowel, ensuring that she got the rest. Her heart was still thumping strangely, and she had no idea why. If she hadn't known better she might have thought she had a crush on the man, which was patently ridiculous. She didn't know him, and he had to be her father's age. The fact that he had looked at her as though he wanted to eat her (and her inexperienced yet imaginative mind helpfully supplied the more salacious interpretation of that expression) made her squirm uncomfortably.

By the time the water had boiled, she had calmed down, and she got out the tea things with something approaching her usual manner. She could hear the murmur of voices from the lounge, and she set the teapot, cups and saucers, milk jug and sugar bowl on a tray. After a moment, she decided to add a plate of the cookies she had baked. She carried the tray through, noting the pile of paperwork spread on the coffee table. Mr Gold calmly swept it up and placed it on the couch beside him, allowing her to set down the tray. She could smell the scent of him as she leant down, and it made her head spin.

"Thank you," he said quietly, and she blushed again, her stomach clenching strangely. His hair had fallen over his face as he bent towards the tray, and she had a sudden, overwhelming urge to run her fingers through it and brush it back.

"Y-you're welcome," she said awkwardly, and his eyes looked up to meet hers as he smiled briefly.

"Cookies, too!" said Maurice cheerfully. "You're in for a treat, Gold. My daughter is an excellent cook."

"I'm sure Miss French has many hidden talents just waiting to be – unlocked," said Gold softly, selecting a cookie with long fingers. Belle shivered as his voice rolled over her like a caress, straightening up and stepping backwards. She watched him take a bite of the cookie, knowing that it would be crisp around the edges and chewy inside, the chocolate chips still melted and unctuous. He looked surprised as he chewed and swallowed, and flicked his eyes to hers, giving her another brief smile and a nod. He set the cookie down, smears of chocolate on his fingers, and Belle's heart began to thump as he put his fingertips in his mouth, sucking them clean as he flicked through a document. The pink tip of his tongue swept across his thumb, catching errant crumbs and hooking them into his mouth, and Belle swallowed hard before ducking out of the room, her heart pounding. She decided it would be safest to stay in the kitchen, away from this unnerving man and the strange feelings he was causing in her. She washed the few dishes that remained from her baking, wiping down the work surfaces, even though they didn't need it, and made herself some peppermint tea.

She picked up her book again, sitting at the kitchen table to read it, and finished her cookie, managing not to get any more of it over her face. Finishing her chapter, she dusted crumbs from her fingers and turned the page, with no clue as to what she had just read. Sighing, she turned back and determinedly started again. Her eyes moved over the pages without taking anything in, and she eventually threw it down in frustration.

"Not a good book?" His voice made her jump, and she turned around, feeling herself blush again. He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning on his cane, his dark eyes watching her.

"I'm a little tired," she lied. "Having trouble concentrating."

"I see." He took a step into the kitchen, and Belle felt her breath quicken as he walked into the room, his presence seeming to fill it, to _call_ to her. She watched his hands, the long fingers curling around the cane handle, and wondered what they would feel like on her skin. Blushing fiercely, she hurriedly got up off the stool, and busied herself putting away the dry dishes that had been stacked on the draining board. She could feel him watching her, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling strangely, her skin feeling unnaturally tight.

"Your father tells me that you're a promising student," he said, his accent like silk, and Belle swallowed hard before turning to face him, hating the way her cheeks were aflame.

"I like to study," she confirmed. "I'm looking forward to going to college in a couple of years."

"And where is it you're planning on going?" he asked, flicking his hair out of his eyes.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I was thinking of the University of Maine. Storybrooke campus. It has a really interesting English curriculum, but there are other possibilities. I'll start looking into it next year."

"I'm sure you'll make an excellent scholar," he said. His eyes caught hers, looking expectant, as though he was anticipating her response, but she wasn't sure what to say to that, and so she simply shrugged.

"I'll do my best," she said. "Mum thinks I'm wasting my time and should choose law or medicine or something that actually leads to a job, but…" She shrugged again. He nodded.

"We can't help the direction our passions take us, I suppose," he said, and took another step towards her, making her breath catch in her throat. She backed away, and he smiled, his eyes glinting.

"Don't concern yourself, dearie. I don't bite." His smile widened, and she saw a gleam of gold on his bottom jaw. His grin was shark-like, and suddenly she was very afraid that he _did _bite, that he could chew her up and spit her out and not even leave her bones behind to tell of her demise. She told herself very firmly to shut up. Belle prided herself in being a good judge of character, and she smelled danger on him, danger and pain and obsessive adherence to whatever his particular goal was. Although the rational part of her brain told her that these were the perfect ingredients for a stalker, she didn't believe the danger was directed at her. She didn't fear him, and that gave her fresh courage to meet his eyes.

"I'm glad Dad hired a new lawyer," she said, trying to make polite conversation. "The last one was useless. And kind of creepy." She could have bitten her tongue! He probably knew the man. Didn't lawyers all know one another? To her surprise he looked amused.

"I can't promise not to be creepy, but I assure you I'm far from useless," he said gravely. "They don't call me The Spinner for nothing, you know." He was watching her with that look in his eyes again, and she frowned, the name tugging at something in her subconscious.

"Have we – have we met before?" she asked, and he smiled, a thin, secretive smile.

"I'd never forget meeting _you_, Miss French," he said softly, and she swallowed, wishing he'd leave, thankful that he hadn't.

"Here we are, Gold." Her father's voice cut through the strange tension in the room, and Belle suppressed a sigh of relief as she turned to face him. Maurice was waving a sheaf of paper.

"I knew I had it somewhere," he said jovially. "Perhaps you could look this over for me."

"Indeed," said Gold, suddenly the businessman again. He plucked the papers from Maurice's hand. "And if you could read over that new licensing agreement and, assuming you have no objections, have a signed copy with me by Friday, we can proceed."

"No problem." Maurice made to clap him on the shoulder, but Gold had tucked the papers under his arm and extended a hand, so he was forced to make their goodbye with a handshake. Belle couldn't help grinning; her father had never been good at formal business interactions. It was one of the things that her mother complained about and blamed for the lack of success of some of his projects. She supposed that having Gold aboard would work in his favour in that regard. She could certainly not imagine him coming out of a business meeting with anything but the outcome he had wanted. Her grin faded as Gold turned to her and met her eyes, and she swallowed again.

"Good day, Miss French," he said softly, and she nodded.

"I'll see you out," said Maurice cheerfully, and followed Gold from the kitchen, Belle drifting in his wake.

Maurice showed him to the door, and Gold caught a glimpse of Belle peering at him from the kitchen as he left. He nodded to her, making her duck her head back behind the door, and turned away to walk to his car. He relaxed into the back seat with a sigh, trying to steady his racing heart.

"Take me home, please, Dover," he said quietly, and the tall man nodded from his place behind the wheel.

* * *

Gold felt himself begin to calm as the car purred along, but his nerves still felt frazzled when he reached home, and he poured himself a whisky almost as soon as he was through the door. To see her again, after all this time, all those years of searching and never finding her… She was beautiful, as beautiful as he remembered. He paced the lounge, the pain in his leg keeping him from jumping for joy. It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to take Belle in his arms and kiss her thoroughly, or fall at her feet and beg her forgiveness for his failings. He had thought that he had prepared himself for this encounter, that he would not react so strongly to her presence, but one sight of her and he felt all that they had had, and all they had lost. He ran his hands over his face, trying to calm himself, and picked up the phone to call Doc, as he had promised he would. The little man chirped that he'd be right over, and Gold put down the phone, finishing his whisky and pouring another.

Doc arrived on the doorstep with Chinese food, and Gold opened a bottle of wine and got out some plates to eat their meal at the kitchen table.

"So?" asked Doc, putting prawn crackers in a dish and pulling chopsticks from one of the bags of food. Gold set two wine glasses down slowly and poured the wine, handing one to the other man. He sighed, leaning on the kitchen table.

"She's so young, Doc," he said quietly. "She seems younger than ever, in this life. Can I do it to her? Can I really walk into her life and completely change everything for her?"

Doc leant back in his chair, taking a long swallow of wine, and eyed Gold speculatively.

"What's the alternative?" he asked, and Gold let his head drop momentarily before raising it to meet his eyes.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Perhaps I should just let her be. Let her have a life of her own."

"She won't be happy," said Doc gently. "Not fully happy. You know that. Would you let her go on being as miserable as you've been these past seven lifetimes?"

"She doesn't remember!" snapped Gold, pushing himself upright. "That's the difference! Perhaps she could be happy, without me." His insides twisted at the thought. "Perhaps she could," he added, in a whisper, and Doc sighed, putting his glass down.

"You're afraid," he said sternly. "You think she won't love you as you love her. Is that why we have to go through this ridiculous charade every time? Is that why you make her fall in love with you before we wake her?"

"I want her to make her own choices." Gold began to pace, running his hand through his hair. "I don't give a fuck what the Seer may have done to us, I want her to _choose_."

"And you want her to choose _you_," said Doc gently. He sighed, drumming his fingers on the table. "Marcus, I get it. I do. But you have to stop beating yourself up like this every time. She's bound to you. She'll feel it. You know this."

"I know." Gold stopped, hands on his hips, head bowed. "She – she felt it. I could see it in her eyes." His voice trailed off in a whisper.

"So, what are you going to do?" asked Doc, opening up his portion of char-siu pork.

"I don't know!" snapped Gold, starting to pace again. He ran a hand over his face. "Ah, who am I kidding? I can't fucking stay away from her, now I've found her again. It's taking every bit of my self-control not to grab her and kiss the hell out of her."

"I think that would be a bad move on your part," said Doc dryly, gesturing with his chopsticks. "Being arrested would not be an auspicious start to your life together."

"Agreed." Gold's voice was clipped, short. "Maybe – maybe I can offer her a job, part time, help her save for college. Her father's an idiot with money – I'm guessing he has nowhere near enough saved for her to attend a decent university."

Doc nodded thoughtfully. "That could work. Teach her contract law, or something."

"I was thinking something more pertaining to her own interests, and aligning with ours," said Gold, stroking his chin with a long finger. "I could let her help out with the old manuscripts."

Doc grinned, lifting his wineglass in a toast. "That sounds just like our girl," he said fondly.

* * *

**A/N: Next time: Belle visits Gold at his office, and is offered a job.**


	2. The Price Of Tea

**A/N: Thank you for the lovely response to the first chapter. This will obviously be different to TLG, due to their different circumstances, but I'll try to keep it interesting. There will be other characters and more on their past lives to come. **

**Twyla Mercedes, morgananne16, Lattelady, deweymay, Kiri Huo Ziv, MyraValhallah, JosephineM, PsychoBeachGirl88, AquaJasmine23, crazykat77, Erik'sTrueAngel, Grace5231973: thank you all for your support. If anyone has any prompts, now's the time to let me know!**

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Belle pushed her piece of salmon around her plate, not hungry but not wanting to draw attention to herself by leaving food. Of course, her father would probably eat it in her place, but she knew what her mother was like; she seemed to see the leaving of food as a personal insult to her cooking.

"So, how is the new lawyer shaping up?" asked Jeanette, from her seat at the end of the table. Belle eyed her father sharply as she stabbed at a piece of broccoli.

"Oh, he seems very good," said Maurice airily, taking a drink. "Knows his stuff. A little bit scary, actually, but he comes highly recommended."

Jeanette made a non-committal sound in her throat. "Well, he couldn't be much worse than the last one," she allowed, and Maurice shoved a piece of potato in his mouth and chewed, gesturing with a fork.

"That reminds me, Belle, would you take that paperwork to his office tomorrow?" he asked. "I hadn't planned on going into town."

Belle flushed, her heart suddenly starting to thump in her chest.

"I – guess," she faltered, and Jeanette sniffed.

"Come now, Belle, you can easily pop by after school, can't you?" she pointed out. "Your father is heavily involved in the drawings for his new patent, he doesn't have time to travel all over Boston."

"I said I'd do it," said Belle dryly, and took a sip of water. "I wanted to go to the library, anyway."

"That's my girl," said Maurice, nudging her affectionately and making her giggle.

* * *

Belle paused outside a grim, five-story building of grey stone, a sheaf of papers clutched to her chest as she swallowed hard. She pushed open the heavy wooden door, stepping inside, and found herself in a long, dark corridor. There was a set of double doors at the far end, light shining out through the cracks around them, and she began walking towards them slowly, her footsteps echoing off the cold stone. As she reached the doors, they swung open, bathing her in warm light, and Belle found herself in a large, warm room, an enormous fire crackling to the side of her. There was a huge, carved wooden desk directly ahead of her, a high-backed leather chair behind it with its back to her, and Belle took a deep breath as she approached the desk. He would be sitting in the chair, waiting for her to speak. She wasn't sure that she could. She placed her bundle of papers on the table, and waited, feeling her chest heave and her heart thump.

The sound of the doors behind her closing with a dull boom made her jump and turn, and she almost shrieked as she found herself face to face with him. Light from the flames flickered over him, highlighting his cheekbones and the hints of silver in his hair, making his eyes dark pits staring into her soul. There was a gleam of gold as he smiled at her.

"Miss French," he whispered. "I was hoping you'd come." He took a step towards her, and Belle moved backwards, until she was pressed against the desk. He let his cane drop, his hands reaching for her, and then he was cupping her face and lowering his head, and Belle moaned as she pressed herself against him and his lips found hers. His kiss filled her with fire, made her want to wrap herself around him, and she barely noticed when he started unbuttoning her dress. Within a moment she was naked, and he was naked, and then he was lying her down on the desk, his hand slipping between her legs to touch her, preparing to take her fully.

"You're _mine_!" he whispered, and Belle awoke with a start, breathing hard, her skin tingling and an unfamiliar throbbing between her legs. Well, that was just great.

* * *

Belle paused outside the building where Mr Gold's practice was housed, and was relieved to find that it looked nothing like the building in her dreams. She read his name on the brass plate by the door, above around half a dozen others. _M.A. Gold._ She wondered what the initials stood for. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the buzzer, and after a crackling from the intercom, she heard a woman's voice.

"Gold & Associates."

"Um – hello," said Belle uncertainly. "I have some papers for Mr Gold."

The door buzzed, and she pushed it open, stepping into a hallway decorated in pale grey with dark wood flooring. She walked along to the reception, where a short, plump old woman smiled at her from behind a curved desk in dark, shining wood, grey hair swept into a bun on the top of her head.

"Can I help you, dear?" she asked, pushing her glasses up her nose, and Belle smiled, holding up her envelope.

"I have these for Mr Gold. My father asked me to drop them off."

"And your name, dear?"

"Belle French," she said, and the woman smiled.

"You would be Maurice French's girl, then?" she asked. "I met your father. Such a nice man. So cheerful."

Belle smiled, liking the woman already. She watched as the woman picked up the telephone and dialled a number.

"Belle French is in reception with a package for you," she said, and frowned at what she heard on the other end. "Well, how should I know? I didn't open it." She put the phone down and rolled her eyes. "You'd better go on through, dear. Don't take any notice of how rude he is, his bark's worse than his bite. Usually."

"I…" Belle couldn't think of how to respond to that, but she was now feeling more nervous than ever. The woman pointed towards a corridor to the left, and Belle made her way slowly towards it. She walked along, looking at unfamiliar names on the doors, hearing snatches of conversation and frenzied typing from behind them, and finally came to the door at the end of the corridor. _Marcus Gold_, it said on the nameplate. Okay, so that was the 'M'. Belle knocked tentatively.

"Come in," came his voice from behind it, and she shivered at its smoothness, swallowing hard. She opened the door, papers clutched to her chest like a shield, and saw him sitting some way away behind an ornate mahogany desk, two chairs placed in front of it. His elbows were resting on the table, fingers tented in front of his chin, a small smile on his face. He was wearing a dark blue shirt with a matching handkerchief, and a tie in an even darker shade of blue. Belle met his eyes, and swallowed again. Nope. Her stomach was still doing backflips. She hoped it would calm itself down soon, or she'd need to start popping antacids whenever she saw him. Her dream threatened to swim to the surface, and she shoved it firmly away before she could start blushing.

"Miss French," he said pleasantly. "How lovely to see you. I trust your father is keeping well?"

"He is, thank you," said Belle, dropping her eyes nervously. She held up the papers. "He asked me to give you these."

"Excellent," said Gold briskly. "Would you join me for a cup of tea while I go through them?"

"I – um – okay," said Belle uncertainly, and he grinned, gold tooth flashing. She handed him the envelope, turning away as he opened it, and scanned the room. It was lined with bookshelves, and her mouth opened as she ran her eyes over the hundreds of books that filled them.

"_Oh!"_ she gasped, spinning slowly on the balls of her feet as she looked around the room. "All these books!"

"Legal texts," he said dismissively. "Exceedingly tiresome."

Belle stopped, and turned to him with a gleam in her eye. "I'd probably still read them," she confessed, and he grinned suddenly.

"Perhaps you ought to consider a future in the law, then. I know of few careers that require so much reading."

"I don't think so," she said awkwardly, and he smirked briefly.

"Pity. I think you'd do well. From what your father tells me, you certainly have the intelligence."

She watched him, his eyes gleaming in the warm light of his desk lamp, looking almost black. His expression was all-knowing, self-assured. She was absolutely certain that he was an excellent lawyer, and the intensity of his gaze made her want to shiver.

"I don't believe I have the ruthlessness," she said, and his smile widened, a gleam of gold showing.

"Well, perhaps not," he allowed. "Although I believe you possess other, equally effective qualities."

"Such as?"

He didn't answer, picking up his phone and calling the front desk.

"Mrs Potts, might we have some tea, please?" he asked. "And – no calls for half an hour or so." He rolled his eyes at whatever Mrs Potts was saying. "Just tell them to bugger off until later, what am I paying you for?" Belle heard the woman sniff loudly before he hung up, and he smirked.

"She doesn't seem particularly…" Belle trailed off, but he chuckled.

"Deferential? She isn't. It's one of the things I admire most about her." He smiled, leaning forwards, his eyebrows twitching. "She probably thinks I'm going to eat you."

Belle's head filled with arousing but (at that moment in time) decidedly unwelcome images, and she felt herself blush. He was grinning now, and she was desperately worried that he knew what she was thinking.

"I don't want to keep you from your work," she said, eyeing the door. "Dad just told me to drop the papers off." She looked at him shrewdly. "You're not going to charge him for this tea, are you?"

Gold sat back and pressed a hand to his heart, an injured expression on his face.

"You wound me with your baseless accusations, Miss French," he said sadly. "I assure you that my intentions in offering you refreshment are entirely gentlemanly."

"Yes, but are these intentions going to cost us anything?" asked Belle dryly, and he chuckled.

"You may depend on my generosity," he promised. "I'll even throw in a biscuit, although I can't promise they'll be as good as yours."

"Hmm." Belle was amused, in spite of herself, and his smile widened.

"Please, Miss French, have a seat." He gestured to the chairs opposite, and Belle eased into one, feeling the leather creak beneath her.

His fingers slowly drummed the desk, and Belle watched, strangely fascinated. The light from the lamp was picking up the tiny hairs on the backs of his hands and on his fingers, glinting gold in the light. His nails were smooth and perfectly manicured. She found herself looking at that ring he wore, wondering how old it was. He was still watching her, raising one hand to rest his chin on it, and her breath caught at the intensity in his eyes. She looked away hurriedly.

"So, what is it that you intend to study?" His voice pulled her eyes back to his, his gaze catching and holding her. Belle felt her heart thump again, and wanted to rip it out of her chest to stop the bloody thing.

"English Literature," she said. "I may minor in ancient languages. I have some knowledge of runes and hieroglyphs, and I'd like to continue to study that, if I can."

"Really?" He sat back in his chair, his fingers tented in front of him. "I should introduce you to a friend of mine. Professor Short. As I understand it…" He trailed off as Belle's eyes bulged with excitement. She leant on his desk, hair bouncing around her shoulders.

"_The _Professor Short?" she asked breathlessly. "The Professor Short who wrote that thesis on the interpretation of Nordic runes?"

Gold lifted an eyebrow. "I shall bow to your superior knowledge of his works, Miss French," he said smoothly. "But I believe that he has an extensive knowledge of ancient languages, yes."

_"Oh!"_ breathed Belle, pushing herself back up once more and putting her hands together, almost as though she was praying. "I'd _love _to get the opportunity to talk with him!"

He smiled slowly, lips curling upwards, his eyes glinting.

"Your wish is my command," he said softly, and Belle returned his grin. A swift knock to the door pulled his attention away, and a moment later Mrs Potts bustled through with a tea tray, frowning suspiciously as though she was expecting to find Belle tied hand and foot and at his mercy. She placed it on the desk, adjusting the plate of cookies that was next to the teapot.

"Excellent," said Gold briskly. "Thank you, Mrs Potts, Miss French and I will see to ourselves." As the woman was leaving, he put the flat of his hand up to his mouth, and in a loud stage whisper, added. "She can't carry things too far these days, poor old dear."

"I heard that!" came a voice from outside the door, just before it shut, and Gold grinned.

"Please, help yourself," he said, gesturing at the cookies, and Belle picked one up to give her hands something to do while they waited for the tea to brew. She nibbled on it nervously, unsure why he had wanted to serve her tea. Surely he should just take the papers from her and get on with his day. He was tapping his fingertips together rhythmically, the gold ring he wore gleaming in the light, eyeing her thoughtfully. She let her eyes wander over him, picking out the streak of silver at his temples. Her gaze trailed down his throat to where it disappeared beneath the dark blue silk of his shirt. She had a brief, heady thought of what he might taste like if she were to run her tongue over his skin, and felt herself beginning to blush. This was _not _appropriate!

"Miss French, would you like a job?" he asked suddenly, making her start.

"What?" Belle swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and he quirked an eyebrow at her.

"A job," he said gently. "It would help you save for college. Two evenings a week, plus Saturdays if you wanted to."

"What…" She cleared her throat, internally screaming at herself to wake up and stop thinking like a bloody sex-crazed loon. "What would I be doing?"

"I own an antique shop," said Gold quietly. "In Storybrooke, as it happens. I have acquired many old documents and manuscripts over the years, and I would like some help in translating them."

"Well, I don't think my knowledge is as good as all that," said Belle nervously, but he waved a hand.

"I also need someone to dust and take inventory while I go over the books. I'm sure it would be helpful to you to get some experience of working with ancient languages, so perhaps you'd consider it." He poured the tea, a thin, tawny stream falling into a delicate china cup, steam rising from it. "Two evenings a week, where I ask you to work on some translations here, followed by a Saturday at the shop. We could travel up on Friday night after the office closes."

"I…" Belle's brow furrowed. "Where would I stay?" She had a sudden, highly exciting thought that she might be staying at his house, that she would be in the room next to his, only an unlocked door keeping him out. Her mind took the idea and ran with it, so that she almost missed what he was saying. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry?" she asked, blushing, and he gave her a curious look.

"I said that I can get you a room at the local bed and breakfast. Mrs Lucas is an excellent host, I'm told. She has a granddaughter your age."

"Oh." _There goes _that _fantasy_. "I – um – I don't know, I'd have to speak to Dad about it,"

"Of course," he said briskly. "Let me know by Friday and we can discuss the details." He handed her a cup of tea, and she set her cookie down on her lap, cradling the tea in both hands and sipping carefully.

"Will you pay me?" she asked, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, it wouldn't be a job if I didn't, now would it, dearie?"

Belle blushed a little, watching him. "Okay, so how much?"

Gold sucked his teeth, considering. "How about two hundred and fifty dollars a week? Cash, of course."

Belle almost choked on her tea. "For one day and a couple of evenings?"

"I'll pay your food and board as well, naturally," he added.

"Naturally," she echoed, unsure whether he was joking. It would certainly mean that she could quit the waitressing job she had been working on Saturdays and have money to spare. She bit her lip as she thought it over.

He was watching her over the rim of his cup, the delicate china looking somewhat out of place in his hand. She had that feeling again, the instinct that told her he could be violent, that his rage would be a terrible thing to behold. For a moment she considered declining, but then his eyes met hers and he smiled. She had that other feeling, the one that told her he would always keep her safe. He took a sip of tea, watching her, and put his cup and saucer down, leaning forwards with his fingers laced together.

"Do we have a deal?" he asked.

* * *

**A/N: Next time: Belle experiences what Gold is capable of, and they journey to Storybrooke.**


	3. Character Study

**A/N: Two chapters in and already I have some of you asking when the rating will be going up! Shame on you! (I'm kidding, obviously, it will probably be going up next chapter).**

**Guest: You asked for more - here you are, then!**

**MyraValhallah, morgananne16, isfoss86, AquaJasmine23, Grace5231973, crazykat77, Twyla Mercedes, deweymay, TheNemphilimWithFangs: thank you all for your support.**

* * *

To Belle's surprise, her parents were delighted that Mr Gold had offered her a job. Maurice announced that it would surely be a help to her, considering what she wanted to study, and Jeanette pointed out that working for a lawyer, even if it was in his antique shop, had to be better than working as a waitress. Belle hadn't told them about the money she'd be making; she had already decided to ask Mr Gold to pay most of it into a savings account so she could start putting money aside for college. She had expected her parents to put their collective feet down about her staying in Storybrooke, but once they found out where she'd be staying and that there was a girl her own age there, they were content.

Belle started work at Gold's office the very next Monday evening after school, and sat at a small table next to the large leather couch on the wall adjacent to his desk. He had made her put on thin white cotton gloves, and had opened up a large wooden box filled with rolls of vellum and pieces of parchment, separated with tissue paper. Belle's eyes had widened as she carefully looked them over. Most were in Latin, a few in what looked like Norman French (she wasn't too sure about that, but could recognise some French words) and some in languages she didn't understand. She looked up at Gold, to find him watching her expectantly.

"This is going to take ages," she told him. "I don't even know if I can do it, Mr Gold."

"Of course you can," he said gently. "And you'll pick things up along the way. I have Latin dictionaries to hand, and a laptop if you need to look anything up."

"Oh, I can bring my own laptop next time, for sure," said Belle, sifting through the documents. "Are you sure you want me to do all this? It'll take _years_."

Gold smiled. "Well, in that case I think you ought to get started," he said, and she shrugged and sat down.

* * *

Their chosen evenings were Mondays and Thursdays, with Belle also agreeing to meet him at the office on Friday after school to travel up to Storybrooke. They spoke little on the first evening, Belle engrossed in her new task and Gold going through a contract he was working on. She could hear him scratching through sentences with a fountain pen and occasionally muttering under his breath as he worked, which was slightly distracting, but in a good way. They had tea half way through the session, before he closed the office at seven. Mrs Potts left at five on the dot, so he made the tea himself, and Belle enjoyed curling up next to him on the leather couch and talking over what she'd translated so far, which admittedly wasn't much.

She found herself watching him closely, his long fingers curling through the delicate handle of the teacup, the way the silver strands in his hair shone in the light of the lamps. Whenever she sat next to him, she could smell his cologne, and could hear the tiny sound he made as he breathed lightly through his nose, which made her acutely aware that he was living and breathing, that there was blood pumping through his veins. This led her to thinking about other bodily reactions he might have, and she blushed furiously and stood up so quickly that she almost spilled her tea. His brow had crinkled in curiosity, and she had stammered something ridiculous about the translation she was working on, hurrying back to her work. She wondered if her proximity to him was beginning to send her crazy.

He drove her home afterwards, a courteous 'good evening' as he dropped her off, and Belle stomped into the house with her body a hormone free-for-all. She was therefore surprised that her dreams were Gold-free that evening (and, if she was honest, a little disappointed). It was their session on Thursday that gave her a little more insight into his character.

* * *

Belle was hovering over an ancient document, white gloves on her hands to protect the vellum, magnifying glass poised before her eyes as she carefully noted down what she felt was being said. She had to admit that none of it was making much sense. She could read Latin (mostly), although some of the words she was unsure about, but this seemed to be some sort of recipe for something. If she wasn't mistaken, it also involved compass points and something called the amulet of Lochmuir. Belle wrinkled her nose.

"This looks as though it's some sort of – spell," she said uncertainly. "Where did you get these documents?"

She heard Gold shift in his chair, and looked around to see him writing something, his eyes on the papers in front of him.

"Hmm? Oh, they were part of a job lot I bought in Boston last year. I have no idea of their original provenance. I was told they came from the north of England, but it's difficult to be sure with documents of this age." He looked up, catching her eye, and Belle swallowed. His eyes were very dark in the lamplight. He gestured to her.

"You should put those aside for a while, you'll strain your eyes," he added. "Go and see if Mrs Potts will make us some tea before she leaves."

At that moment, there was a commotion outside; Mrs Potts had raised her voice, but another, male voice was shouting over her angrily, coming closer. Belle flicked her eyes to Gold, and noticed that his brows had drawn down and that he was suddenly tense and wary. She watched, fascinated, as he unwound himself from the chair, his movements sinuous and somehow deadly. He stepped out from behind the desk and waited as the voices approached.

"You can't just barge in there!" Mrs Potts was squawking, and Belle jumped in shock as she heard a thump and a cry.

"Out of my way, woman, or you'll be first!" shouted a rough voice. Belle looked at Gold, panic in her face, and he held up a calming hand as the door to his office burst open.

At first Belle couldn't see who was there, the thick dark wood blocking her view, but a man barged in and slammed the door behind him. He was perhaps six feet tall, with a barrel chest and thick arms, dressed in a suit that was in dire need of pressing. He had no tie, his shirt was unbuttoned and he needed to shave. In short, he looked as though he had slept in his clothes, and not particularly well, at that.

"You fucking bastard!" he spat, glaring at Gold, red-faced and furious. Gold folded his hands over his cane, watching the man impassively.

"I really don't feel that you should be here, Mr Carter," he said calmly, and the man clenched his fists, looming over him.

"Oh, you don't? You destroyed my fucking _life_, and you don't think I should react, is that it?"

"I think if you have anything to say on the matter, it should be through your lawyers," said Gold dismissively. He looked calm, but there was a light in his eyes that Belle hadn't seen before. The man barked a laugh.

"Lawyers? Oh, yeah, that's a good one! You think they're gonna do any work for me now that you've ruined me?"

"Well, perhaps you should have thought about that before you stole my client's intellectual property," said Gold dispassionately. "It's called litigation, Mr Carter. One side loses, one side wins." He showed his teeth. "You lost."

_"__Lost?"_ Carter was fuming, his face an angry red. "I've lost _everything_, you son of a bitch! My wife is leaving me over this! My house is gone, my kids…"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure the story of your failure is extremely heart-wrenching," interrupted Gold, in a bored voice. "Perhaps you should have settled when I gave you the opportunity. I feel the terms of my client's initial offer were more than generous, considering."

"Settle this, you sick fuck!" Carter reached into his coat, and Belle gasped as he whipped out a handgun. Her heart started thumping high in her throat, and she let out a tiny noise of alarm as Carter finally noticed her, his gun trained on Gold.

"You won't be shooting me," said Gold assuredly, and the man gave him an ugly grin.

"How about I shoot her, then?" he demanded. "She your daughter? Looks nothing like you."

Belle desperately tried to take a step back, to get out of his line of sight, but her feet were frozen, her body immobilised with fear. Carter swung the gun around to her, and her world seemed to shrink, her vision narrowing until all she could see was the gun-barrel in front of her. She could barely _breathe_.

"She's my employee," said Gold in a cold voice. "And you won't be harming _her_, I can assure you of that, dearie."

"Really?" Carter barked out a laugh. "We'll see about…"

More quickly than Belle would have thought possible, Gold lashed out with his cane, catching Carter in the stomach. He doubled over with a groan, dropping the arm holding the gun, and Gold brought the handle of the cane down on the back of Carter's hand with a crunch of bone. The man dropped the gun with a scream, which turned into a high-pitched keening sound when Gold flipped the cane around in his hand and slammed it up between Carter's legs. The man crashed to his knees and fell to the side, his good hand clutching at his genitals. Belle let out an embarrassingly high squeak, suddenly able to move again, and leapt out of the way. From having been so calm and collected throughout the encounter, Belle noticed that it was at this point that Gold appeared to give his rage free rein. He kicked Carter onto his back, put another swift and brutal kick into his ribs, and shoved the handle of his cane into the man's throat, making him choke and gargle. Carter scrabbled ineffectually at the cane with thick fingers, and Gold pressed harder. His hair was hanging in his face, his eyes flashing with fury, and Belle took several steps back from him, sidling away around the table as Gold bent down over the struggling man.

"You come into my office and threaten my employees, and you expect me to stand there and let you?" he fumed. "Who the fuck did you think you were dealing with?"

"You bastard!" The man's voice was a low hiss, his face purpling from lack of air.

"Mr Gold…" Belle began, and backed away as he whipped his head around, the rage in his face making her want to run. She took a deep breath, steeling herself at the dark light in his eyes. "I think – he can't breathe."

"That _was_ the general idea," said Gold, his voice oddly calm.

"I'll call the police," wheezed Carter, and Gold smiled nastily, turning his attention back.

"Please, use my phone," he offered. "I'll even dial 911 for you. Tell the police how you broke into my office, assaulted a member of my staff, pulled a gun on me and threatened to shoot a teenage girl. I would _love _to see their reaction."

_"__Asshole!"_ Carter could barely make out the word, but his intention was all too clear.

"Count on it." Gold glared at him for a few moments longer. "Now, Mr Carter, I am going to let you up. I suggest you crawl out of here, and never darken my door again. If I see you within twenty feet of my office, I won't call the police." He leant in closer, his voice a menacing whisper. "I will make you _disappear_, do you understand me?"

Carter nodded furiously, his face an alarming shade of purple, and Gold eased off, straightening up and removing his cane from the other man's throat. Carter rolled to the side, coughing and wheezing.

"Now get out," said Gold calmly, and Carter managed to haul himself up, his eyes shooting daggers at Gold as he staggered to the door and pulled it open.

Belle heard the air _whoosh_ out of her lungs as she allowed herself to relax a little, and suddenly Gold was there, hand on her shoulder. She wasn't sure whether she should have pulled away from him. She was even less sure why she didn't _want _to pull away from him.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently, and she nodded.

"Mrs Potts…" she began, and he walked swiftly to the door. Belle could hear a murmur of voices, the sound of Mrs Potts sniffing. She swallowed hard, looking at the gun on the floor. She had never seen a gun in real life before, and now she could say she'd looked down the barrel of one. She was shaking uncontrollably.

Gold came back into the room, and eyed her with concern.

"Here, sit down," he said, gesturing to the leather couch at the side of the room. Belle obeyed, her legs feeling like jelly. She wanted to leave. She wanted her father. God help her, she wanted Gold to put his arms around her, to rest her head against his chest and feel safe. She put her head in her hands with a sigh.

"I've asked Mrs Potts to make some tea," he said, and sure enough the plump old woman was soon bustling in with a tray, which she set down on the coffee table. Belle straightened up, rubbing her hands over her face and sending Mrs Potts a watery smile.

"Thank you," said Gold. "And I think no one would fault you if you added a nip of something to yours, Mrs Potts."

The old woman sniffed. "Well, I wouldn't say no, if you're offering," she admitted, and Gold crossed to his desk and pulled a bottle of whisky from the bottom drawer.

"Are you alright, dear?" asked the kindly old secretary, and Belle nodded, still shaking. Mrs Potts poured a generous shot of whisky into her cup and left the room, muttering to herself about the phones. Gold sat down beside Belle, putting two lumps of sugar in a cup and pouring tea over before adding a splash of milk and handing it to her. She noticed that he added no whisky to his own cup, or to hers.

"Drink it all," he admonished. "I think you're a little young for whisky, Belle, but you've had a shock. The sugar will help."

She gave him a wobbly smile, noting that it was his first use of her name. She liked how it sounded on his tongue.

"Does this happen to you very often?" she ventured, and he smiled.

"More often than you'd think," he admitted, with a brief tilt of his head.

"Will he be back?" she asked then, and he shook his head.

"I can assure you he won't be," he said grimly, and she shrank a little in her seat, wishing she hadn't asked. He seemed to notice her discomfort.

"What I mean by that is that I shall be obtaining a restraining order," he added, and she nodded, relieved. She continued to drink her tea, and her shivering eventually subsided. Gold watched her carefully, refilling the cup when she was done.

"If you don't feel up to continuing, I could take you home now," he offered, and she shook her head.

"No, I'm fine, it was just a bit of a shock." She smiled self-consciously. "I never saw a real gun before."

Gold looked at the weapon where it lay on the floor.

"Careless of me," he muttered, standing up and crossing to the coat stand. He pulled a leather glove from the pocket of his overcoat and scooped up the gun, dropping it in his desk drawer. "My apologies, Belle. I had no intention of leaving the reminder here for you to look at."

"It's okay." Belle took another sip of her tea, cradling the cup in her hands to take advantage of its warmth. She chewed at her lower lip thoughtfully, unsure if she wanted to ask the question that was bouncing around in her head. Gold drank his tea slowly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. She found it difficult to pull her eyes from him, so she decided to ask him what she had been wondering, to distract herself.

"Is what he said really true?" she asked. "Has he really lost everything?"

Gold shrugged. "How should I know? He's not my client."

Belle looked at him over the rim of her cup. "Does it bother you that what you do means that people suffer?"

Gold frowned. "Not especially," he said. "But allow me to turn the question around on you, Miss French. Do you think it's right that he should try to make money off the person who owns the copyright in this case, when he put absolutely no effort into the work he's stealing?"

"I…" Belle hesitated. _So, we're back to 'Miss French', are we? _"No, it's not right that he stole something."

"And, when my clients hire me, do you think it appropriate that I carry out work for them to any standards other than the highest possible?"

"Um…" Belle was a little embarrassed now, and wanted to hide behind her cup. "No, of course not."

"Good." Gold drank his tea. "Then I shall keep on acting for my clients to the best of my abilities and ruthlessly dealing with everyday death threats as they arise." He smirked to show he was joking about the second part, although Belle didn't really think that he was. She wondered what would happen to the hapless Mr Carter if he chose not to heed Gold's warning. The thought made her shiver.

* * *

Belle was oddly silent on the drive home, and Gold pulled up outside her house and turned to face her, his expression serious.

"Miss French, I will understand if tonight's events make you nervous about working for me," he began. "My work – has the potential to make me enemies, but rest assured they will not be allowed to harm you."

"I believe you," said Belle honestly. "I don't think he would really have hurt me, it was just a shock. It was just…" She hesitated. She wanted to say that it was the look in Gold's eyes that had frightened her more than the gun itself. He seemed to understand, nodding slowly. The dim light from the street lamps threw his face into shadow, made it seem thinner and more angular. His eyes still gleamed in what light there was, and Belle wanted to shiver, although the spring night was mild.

"I don't pretend to be a good man," he said quietly. "But when I give my word, I keep it. I assure you that you have nothing to fear from me, now or ever."

Belle swallowed hard, unable to look away. His presence was almost overwhelming. His eyes bored through her, as though they could see into her soul. His aura was crackling and sparking, swirling around her and pulling her in, and her heart thudded painfully in her throat. She wouldn't have been surprised if he had kissed her, and she was shocked to find that she would have welcomed it, but he didn't even touch her. He sat back a little, instead, and the moment was gone.

"Will you still come tomorrow?" he asked, and Belle hesitated, before nodding.

"Yes," she said, and he seemed to relax, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Excellent," he said softly. "Then I'll see you at four, Miss French."

* * *

**A/N: I do so like writing angry Gold.**

**Next time: they go to Storybrooke. (I know that was supposed to be this chapter, but hey. Sue me. My lawyer will break all your fingers with his badass cane :D)**


	4. Welcome To Storybrooke

**A/N: Sorry updates are taking me so long – I've just started a Master's degree and work two jobs, so time is something in short supply. I could probably use a Time Turner. For those pestering me about the Long Game epilogue, I'm most of the way through it, but one scene is kicking my arse. I'm hoping to get it up next week.**

**Anyway, in this chapter, Gold takes Belle to Storybrooke, and things get a little smutty. Not ****_too_**** smutty. Just a little.**

**Twyla Mercedes, crazykat77, AquaJasmine23, MyraValhallah, Kiri Huo Ziv, deweymay, Grace5231973, JosephineM, Erik'sTrueAngel, spacecats, thanks for your comments and prompts.**

* * *

Belle turned up to Gold's office at four on the dot, a small turquoise suitcase on wheels in her hand, and he took her to the car, where he introduced her to the largest man she had ever seen. Mr Dover had to be almost seven feet tall, his bald head stretching up high above Belle, but he smiled when she stammered out a greeting, nodded respectfully, and opened the door of the Cadillac for her. She slid onto the leather seat, knees pressed together in front of her and her hands folded in her lap, thumbs twisting around one another a little nervously. Gold got in beside her, placing his briefcase on the seat between them, and immediately took out some papers to work on. After her initial excitement as they left the city behind, Belle pulled a book from her bag and settled back in her seat, the car purring along quietly.

Gold worked his way through the contract he was drafting, pausing every now and then to make a note in the margin or cross through something. The sound of a page being turned by Belle made him look up briefly, and he put his pen down momentarily as he looked her over. His eyes were drawn to her legs, long and pale, her small feet in sky-blue heels that contrasted prettily with her yellow dress. He knew what her legs looked like, of course, but it was still exciting to see them on display. In their previous lives he had not seen them until they were intimate. Modern fashions made the task of keeping his hands off her far more difficult, and he was momentarily distracted by memories of running his hands over them and having her wrap them around his waist at the height of their passion.

He blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his head, and tried to concentrate on his paperwork. Belle proved to be too much of a distraction for the contract to hold his interest, and he sighed in defeat as he looked up again, his eyes following the curve of her arms, the flick of her fingers as she turned pages. Her nails were painted with dark red lacquer the colour of rich red wine, her slender wrists unadorned with either watch or bracelet. She was absorbed by the book she was reading, a novel by Carlos Ruiz Zafon, and was chewing on her lower lip, her small white teeth gently tugging at the soft pink flesh. A faint smell of roses was coming from her, and he longed to reach over and bury his face in her hair, to kiss her pale throat and pull her close, to bite into her lip himself. He looked away as she turned another page, telling himself to get a grip and stop being a bloody pervert. Nineteen months. That was all he had to wait. After seven lifetimes it was nothing, of course, but now that she was there, alive and beautiful and smelling fantastic… He sighed, turning back to his work.

* * *

The journey to Storybrooke took several hours, and Belle was yawning as the car passed a sign bidding them welcome. She put her book back in her bag, looking out of the window eagerly as they swept along a road bordered by forest.

"It's very green out here," she ventured, and Gold put down his pen, looking over.

"There are excellent trails around the town, I'm told," he said. "I don't do a lot of hiking myself, obviously." He tapped his leg and grinned at her, and Belle returned the smile.

"I'd like to go running, if I can," she admitted. "Off-road's so much more fun."

"Hours of work are eight-thirty until five-thirty," he said. "Apart from that your time is your own."

Belle's eyes missed nothing as they drove into the town. It appeared quaint, with an eclectic mix of shops, an ice-cream parlour, and a clock tower above a building that was boarded up.

"That was the library," said Gold, noticing her staring. "It's been closed for years."

"That's such a shame." Belle bit her lip as they passed, and Dover pulled up outside a small diner. She looked at Gold curiously.

"Granny's bed and breakfast," he explained. "She's a bit of an old dragon at times, but I'm sure you'll be comfortable here."

That made Belle feel a little nervous, and the feeling was not improved when she got out of the car, stretching her stiff limbs, to be greeted by a formidable looking old woman with gold-rimmed glasses, her arms folded over an impressive bosom.

"Mrs Lucas," said Gold, with a knowing little smile. "I trust you're ready to receive my assistant."

"Uh-huh," said Mrs Lucas in a flat voice. "I have a room for her, Mr Gold, just as you requested." She eyed Belle suspiciously, and Belle smiled at her. Mrs Lucas's eyes narrowed a little. "I'll show her up. You stay here."

Gold's eyebrows twitched a little, and Dover handed Belle her case. She followed the woman around the side of the diner and into the entrance to the inn, trotting to keep up with Mrs Lucas's brisk stride.

"You can eat in the diner, breakfast's included in the price, and I lock the door at eleven," she said brusquely. "If you think you'll be out later than that you'll have to ask for the key."

"I'm planning on being asleep by then," said Belle, and the woman looked over her shoulder as she mounted the stairs. She looked a little more approving.

"Never known Mr Gold hire an assistant before," she said. "The man likes his privacy."

"I'm translating some documents for him," Belle explained, hefting her suitcase and climbing the stairs. "I have some knowledge of ancient languages, and he's asked me to go over them for him. It's great experience for me, and I'm using the money to save for college."

They reached the top of the stairs, and she followed Mrs Lucas along a corridor, pausing outside a shiny wooden door. The woman turned to her, her expression somewhat warmer.

"So, you're making plans for college already?" she said approvingly. "Perhaps you can have a word with my Ruby, she seems to think she should spend her entire teenage years partying with losers and sneaking drinks from behind the bar. She thinks I'm too stupid to notice, of course, but there we are."

Belle opened her mouth, could think of nothing to say in response to that, and closed it. Mrs Lucas waved a hand at her.

"Don't worry, girl, I don't expect you to fix _that _problem," she said, and unlocked the door.

The room was light and airy, a flowered coverlet on the bed and a dressing table and desk in dark wood. Large windows gave a view of the gardens, and beyond them, the woods. Belle smiled.

"It's lovely, Mrs Lucas," she said warmly, and the old woman chuffed at her.

"You can call me Granny, everyone does," she said, and jerked a thumb down at the floor. "Everyone except _him_, that is." She handed Belle the key, and Belle put her case on the bed and locked the door behind her as they went back downstairs.

Gold was waiting patiently by the car, and nodded carefully at Granny as Belle emerged, key in hand.

"Excellent," he said briskly. "Let me just show you the shop, Belle, and we'll have some dinner."

Belle was hungry, and agreed readily, getting back into the car and sitting back as Dover took them the short distance to Gold's shop. She looked it over curiously, eyeing the clapboard frontage. A sign outside read _Mr Gold: Pawnbroker and Antiquities Dealer_. Gold stepped out of the car and opened the door for her, telling Dover to take the car home as he helped her out. He pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door to the shop, stepping inside and flicking on the lights.

Belle gasped as she entered, spinning around slowly on the balls of her feet, her eyes taking in everything. The shop was filled with beautiful things, stacked on shelves and tucked into glass-fronted cabinets. Tea services and books in one, silver and porcelain figurines in another. The shop smelled like him, she realised, like cedar and a hint of smoke and something slightly spicy. She blushed at the thought. A glass mobile hung from the ceiling, unicorns with different coloured markings swinging from it and making tiny rainbows dart around the room as the light shone through them. Belle reached up to touch one, remembered her history with fragile objects, and thought better of it. She took a step back, and looked around to find Gold watching her with a tiny smile on his face.

"I love it!" she said breathlessly. "How do you get anything done? I'd just spend my entire day looking at everything."

He shrugged. "I'm a collector of beautiful things," he said. "I've had many years of experience in not allowing myself to get distracted from the things I truly want."

His eyes gleamed as he spoke, and Belle felt her breath hitch a little. She swallowed, and tore her eyes away, moving away from him. She ran a finger along the edge of the wooden counter, marvelling at the old-fashioned cash register. A curtain hung in a doorway to the left of the counter, and she turned back to him and raised an eyebrow. Gold immediately stepped forward and pulled back the curtain.

"My office – of sorts," he said, with a twitch of his brows. "This is where I propose to have you working on the documents."

Belle stepped through, passing very close to him and breathing in his scent. It was as though the shop itself was pouring into her lungs along with him, and she felt a little dizzy. She concentrated on the room in front of her, which again was filled with a variety of objects, some clearly awaiting repair. There was a desk and chair, a workbench, and even a narrow cot with a blanket and pillow.

"Do you sleep here?" she asked, surprised, and Gold chuckled, rich and low, making her squirm inside.

"Occasionally, when I'm particularly busy. I have a house outside town, though. I won't be asking you to work late, have no fear."

Belle smiled in return, looking around, and followed him back out into the main shop.

"It suits you," she declared, and he gave her a quizzical look. She flushed a little. "I mean, at first you think it's quite traditional and old-fashioned, but then you find these little touches where you think 'wow, I didn't expect that'."

Gold's expression didn't change, but a muscle twitched in his cheek.

"It smells like you, too," she added, and clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening as she blushed fully. "I mean – oh, shit, I'm sorry! I don't go around smelling you, honestly! And I don't usually say shit to my employer, either." _Why are you still talking, woman?_

"That's quite alright, Miss French," he said, looking highly amused, and she closed her eyes. Why wouldn't the ground open up and swallow her when she wanted it to?

"Did you mention something about dinner?" she asked desperately, and he smiled slowly.

"Indeed. As it's your first night here we'll start with something simple. I expect you'll want to settle in and get some rest."

He gestured to the door, and led her back to the diner. Belle was relieved; he was right, she was tired and wanted something hot and comforting. By which she meant food, obviously. She shook her head as she followed him down the street. She had to get her mind out of the gutter, or she'd never be able to work for the man.

Heads looked around as they entered the diner, and a strange sort of hush fell over the place. Several of the diners jerked their heads away and suddenly became very interested in the food on their plates.

"Tenants owing me money," said Gold, in a loud whisper, his breath cool on her ear, making her shiver. "Don't worry, I'll get them later."

The silence became even more deafening, and Belle sighed as she slid into a booth, Gold seating himself across from her. The diners that weren't trying to avoid his gaze kept shooting curious glances at her, and she felt herself starting to blush again. She picked up the laminated menu and stared hard at it to distract herself. The food seemed simple, but appetising, and she chewed her lip thoughtfully as she pondered what to have.

"What'll it be?" asked Granny briskly, flipping open a pad and clicking her pen.

"Iced tea, please," said Belle. "And…I think I'll have the lasagne."

"Mr Gold?"

"I'll have the same," he said dryly, handing her his menu. "Try not to poison me, dearie."

"Try not to be an ass, and you've got yourself a deal," she said bluntly, and swept off back to the kitchens. Gold smirked.

"She's paid her rent, so she thinks it's okay to insult me," he explained.

"To be fair, you insulted her first," Belle pointed out, and he grinned at her.

"I can see you're going to try to be my conscience, Miss French," he said mildly. "That'll be a – novel – feeling for me. I wish you luck, but I'm afraid I'm a lost cause."

Belle looked around the diner, at the occupants studiously avoiding making eye contact, and raised an eyebrow.

"Do you like making people fear you?" she asked, and he sat back a little, looking amused.

"It seems to be an unfortunate side-effect of owning most of the town," he said, a little smugly, and Belle rolled her eyes.

"Come on! You don't have to threaten people to get what you want," she said, smiling up at Granny as two iced teas were set in front of them. He smirked.

"Perhaps not, but I've found it highly effective, nonetheless."

Belle shook her head ruefully. "If I'm supposed to be your conscience, Mr Gold, I'm already failing miserably."

"Hence my wishing you luck with your endeavours," he said, grinning at her. "As I said, I'm a lost cause."

He took the straw from his glass and shook off droplets of tea before laying it to the side. She rolled her eyes a second time, stirring her iced tea, and sucked up a mouthful through her straw. He watched her closely, unnaturally still in his seat across from her, and Belle felt her cheeks warm again. She sat back, dropping her eyes.

"Do you eat here often?" she asked, for something to say, and he wrinkled his nose.

"Coffee, mostly," he admitted. "Occasionally breakfast. The food is adequate. I'll take you somewhere nicer tomorrow."

"You don't have to do that," said Belle awkwardly. "I mean, you're already paying for everything else. I should return the favour at some point, buy _you _dinner."

His eyes sparkled. "Are you asking me out on a date, Miss French?" he asked, with a grin, and she felt a tide of red sweep over her face.

"I didn't mean that!" she protested, and he waved a hand, looking contrite.

"Forgive me, I was teasing. I should not," he added gently, and Belle looked down at her hands, trying to think of something to change the subject. He seemed to take pity on her.

"We'll start at eight-thirty tomorrow," he said, suddenly business-like. "I have a sheaf of documents I want you to go through before you start work on anything else."

"Okay," said Belle, forgetting her embarrassment. "I'll be happy to."

"Excellent." He sat back, tapping his fingertips together as he watched her. "With any luck I'll get some others tomorrow. I'd like to see what you make of them."

Now that the conversation had moved onto work, Belle relaxed, and quizzed him about the documents he was going to give her. The lasagne, when it arrived, was delicious, and she complimented Granny warmly when the old woman came to take their plates, earning a smile.

It was approaching nine when Gold paid and helped her to her feet. Belle stifled a yawn, and he nodded.

"I've kept you up later than I intended," he said. "Get some rest, Belle, I'll see you in the morning."

He was still holding her hand up in between them, and for a strange, crazy moment she thought he was going to kiss it. He released her with an inclination of his head, a tiny, knowing smile on his face, and bid her goodnight. Belle went up to her room, feeling the eyes of the diner's occupants on her back, her head whirling.

* * *

She enjoyed working in the shop, looking over the objects stacked on its shelves, poring over the old books he had in a quiet corner. He didn't seem to mind when she took a break from translating to pick up a dusty hardback and leaf through it, smiling at the little noises of surprise and delight she made. She was standing by one of the glass counters when he returned from a short errand, her eyes racing over the pages of an early edition of _Jane Eyre_. At the tinkle of the bell above the door she looked up guiltily.

"Sorry," she said, at his rueful shake of the head. "I got side-tracked." She bit her lip, and was relieved when he grinned at her. She shut the book deliberately.

"I'll just put it back," she said, and turned to the step ladder that let them reach the highest shelves. He stepped up behind her as she climbed, and she was suddenly aware that the skirt of her dress was fairly short. Not that he'd look, of course.

"Be careful," he warned, as she reached up to push the book back in amongst its fellows.

"Don't fuss," she chided. "I've been up and down this thing half a dozen times today, and I've never…"

She cut off with a yelp as she turned her head to face him, overbalanced, and stumbled backwards off the ladder. Immediately she felt the warmth and pressure of his arms going around her as she fell against him, and heard a deep grunt from him at the impact. Her heart thumped with the shock of it.

"Are you alright?" His voice was a low buzz in her ear, his arms now tight around her. She was acutely aware of the heat of him through her dress, through his suit. She swallowed hard, nodding.

"I'm okay," she said unsteadily. "Just clumsy."

He chuckled, relaxing his grip, and set her more steadily on her feet, his hands on her hips.

"There," he said quietly. "No harm done, dearie."

"I'm always falling or tripping over something," she added, and he made a tiny noise of amusement at the back of his throat.

"I remember," he said softly. She could feel his breath against her ear, his lips almost touching her hair as his hands slid slowly up to her waist.

"You'd…" She licked her lips, her throat suddenly dry. "You'd better not let me anywhere near the china."

She felt him smile, his fingers tightening on her waist.

"There are many things I want you to do, Miss French," he whispered. "Cleaning china is not on the list."

Belle's breath quickened, her chest heaving. She felt him move slightly, sliding his body around hers to the side, his forehead pressing lightly against the side of her head. His hand reached up, cupping her cheek, turning her head to face him, and she let out a tiny gasp at the dark light in his eyes. His fingers pushed into her hair, thumb stroking over her smooth cheek, and he pressed his lips to hers. He tasted of tea, slightly bitter, heady and somehow dark, and she moaned as his tongue parted her lips, his fingers curling in her hair, his other arm snaking around her waist and holding her against him. His hand left her hair, sliding down her body, cupping her breast, his thumb stroking her. Belle turned in his grip, pressing herself against him, her hands roaming over his back, and he let out a low growl and pushed her back against the counter, his hands tugging her dress up.

Belle gasped as his hand slid up between her legs, cupping her through the thin cotton of her panties. His tongue probed her, his other hand cradling her head as his fingers began to stroke her through her underwear, making her moan. A finger gently slipped beneath the edge of her panties, stroking over her skin, drawing nearer to her core, and Belle squeaked in surprise as he touched her. He groaned into her mouth as he felt her wetness, his finger sliding between her folds, gently stroking her sensitive flesh. She moaned again as he brushed against her clit, and he tore his mouth from hers, tugging off her underwear and gripping her buttocks as he kissed down her neck. His hands grasped the backs of her legs, hoisting her up onto the counter and pushing her back, lifting her skirts so he could kiss his way up her thighs, his stubble scraping her tender skin…

* * *

Belle jerked awake, heart pounding, body thrumming with desire. She fell back against the pillows with a groan, picking one up and slamming it down over her face as she squirmed in embarrassment. Well, that was just _great_.

* * *

**A/N: Poor Belle, she's as sexually frustrated as I am writing this thing.**

**Next time: Belle meets Ruby, and someone new comes to Storybrooke.**


	5. New Acquaintances

**A/N: So, there's no smut in this chapter, I'm afraid. I've been writing some smutty scenes, but you won't be seeing them just yet. **

**Guest: glad you enjoyed!**

**Erik'sTrueAngel: sorry for teasing – and for more to come :)**

**AquaJasmine23, ShipperQueen93, spacecats, deweymay, MyraValhallah, orthang1, Twyla Mercedes, Grace5231973: thanks for all the encouragement. Happy Once day, everyone!**

* * *

Belle lay for a while with the pillow pressed over her face, her belly writhing with want as the memories of her vivid dream flashed through her mind. It had felt so _real_, even down to the smell of his skin and the scrape of his stubble. She could still feel his hands on her, his hair tickling her inner thighs. Desire tugged at her abdomen, making her squirm, and she sighed as she pulled the pillow away and let it fall to the bed beside her. She ran her hands down over her flat belly, a now familiar aching in her loins. Briefly, she contemplated relieving the problem herself, and thought better of it. Having a sex dream about her boss was bad enough. Acting on it was a line she wasn't prepared to cross just then. She was already wondering how she was going to face him without dissolving into a puddle of crimson-faced mortification.

A knock on her door made her start, and Belle sat up and slid from the bed, rubbing her eyes and yawning as she opened the door.

"Hi!" A girl stood on the other side, grinning at her, clad in tight black jeans and a strappy top beneath a dark red hooded sweatshirt. She was taller than Belle, slender and long-limbed, with long dark hair framing a pale face. She was also beautiful, with bright red lips to match the streak in her hair, and Belle felt suddenly awkward in her baggy pyjamas.

"I'm Ruby," the girl went on. "You must be Belle. You're working for Mr Gold, right?"

"Yeah." Belle smiled at her. "Is it your grandmother that owns this place? Mr Gold said there was a girl my age here."

"That's me." Ruby pulled a face. "Granny's kind of strict, though. I'm glad you're here, maybe she won't be such a hardass about me going out at the weekends." She looked Belle over curiously. "So – you want some breakfast? The diner's open, and I could get the chef to start something off for you. The pancakes are really good."

Belle's mouth watered. "Sure. Let me get dressed."

Ten minutes later she was dressed in a short, flared blue dress and burgundy heels, and followed Ruby down the stairs to the diner. The taller girl opened the door with a grin and waved her through, and Belle walked into the diner just as Mr Gold was entering from the street. She was surprised to see that, although it was a Saturday, he was still wearing a three-piece suit with a dark red shirt. He had fished out a pocket watch on a gold chain and was checking the time, and as her heels clicked on the tiles he looked up and flashed a brief smile at her, his teeth very white. He was wearing a pair of expensive looking sunglasses, the morning sun illuminating his hair, and Belle felt her stomach give a familiar lurch.

"Oh my," she said, in a small voice, and Ruby looked at her quizzically.

"What?" she asked. "It's seven-thirty, Mr Gold can't chew you out for being late."

"No, it's not…never mind." Belle waved a hand, sighing as she slid onto a chair at the booth Ruby showed her to, and the other girl went to order pancakes and coffees.

"Good morning, Miss French." She felt herself blush as she looked up at him, and wished he wasn't wearing those bloody glasses. No one should look that attractive. Particularly when they were her boss. And twice her age at least. And most especially when she knew (or imagined she knew) what their fingers felt like on her naked skin. She was beginning to wonder whether embarrassment was going to be a permanent state for her whenever she was around him. Along with arousal. Mr Gold gestured at the seat across from her.

"May I?"

"Of course." Belle fidgeted a little, twisting the hem of her skirt. "Ruby's ordering pancakes," she added, for something to say.

"Ah." He stood for a moment. "Perhaps I'll leave you two to talk, then."

"I'm sure she won't mind…" began Belle, but he shook his head with a grin.

"I'm almost certain she will," he said dryly. "Worry not, Miss French, I've been drinking my morning coffee alone for many years."

He smiled, his gold tooth gleaming, and sauntered over to a table by the window. Ruby bustled up with two cups of coffee, setting them down on the table, and slid into the seat across from Belle.

"Pancakes'll be right up," she said. "I wasn't sure if you had cream in your coffee, so tell me if you'd prefer it black."

"Oh no, it's really good like this," Belle assured her, wrapping her hands around the cup and inhaling the aroma. "I usually have tea, but this should keep me going no matter what Mr Gold throws at me."

Ruby eyed her curiously. "What kind of a boss is he?"

Belle shrugged, casting a slightly nervous eye at Gold across the diner. He was reading a newspaper, taking the occasional sip of coffee as he did so.

"Too early to say," she said truthfully, and Ruby nodded. At that moment, the waitress arrived with their pancakes.

"You working tomorrow, Rubes?" she asked, tossing blonde hair out of her eyes. Ruby pulled a face.

"Tonight," she said gloomily. "Granny's going out, so I have to cover. Don't suppose you want an extra shift, Ashley?" She looked up hopefully, and the other girl snorted with laughter.

"Yeah, right! Saturday night in this place after a full day shift? No thanks, honey." She sauntered over to another table, pulling a pad from her pocket, and Ruby sighed, looking ruefully at Belle.

"I usually work Sundays," she explained, pouring maple syrup over her pancakes. "Granny pounced on me when I was half asleep and I agreed to cover tonight."

Belle gave her a sympathetic look, which was all Ruby seemed to require. The other girl took a huge mouthful of pancake, syrup running over her chin. Belle giggled at the expression of bliss on her face, and dug into her own pancakes.

"Damn, those are good!" said Ruby fervently, swiping maple syrup off her chin and licking her fingers. She looked up, gesturing with a fork. "Say, do you want to go out sometime?"

"Where?" asked Belle curiously, and Ruby shrugged.

"Oh, there are a few hangouts." She leant forwards and lowered her voice, a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. "There's a bar called the Rabbit Hole. You can't get served alcohol if the boss is on duty, but we can drink Coke and play pool. If Keith's working we might be able to sneak a couple of beers, but don't hold me to that. He's a total sleaze, so watch out for that."

Belle wrinkled her nose. "Not sure I want to go to a bar and get hit on by a sleaze," she admitted, and Ruby nodded with a wry grin.

"Don't worry. He tried it on with me a couple of times. A swift kick to the cojones worked just fine." She frowned, raising her eyes to the ceiling. "Come to think of it, that was the last time I was in there." She waved a dismissive hand, shaking her head. "Better forget the beer thing. If he sees me again he'll sell my ass out to Granny without a second thought."

Belle giggled again.

"Anything else I should know about?" she asked, and Ruby took another bite of pancake, chewing as she pondered.

"There's a movie theatre, although it's only got one screen and it's tiny. The ice cream parlour's pretty good, if you don't mind working off the calories afterwards." She poured some sugar into her coffee and stirred it. "You should come to our girls' night on Fridays, too. Me and Snow get together to have a sleepover most weekends."

"Snow?" said Belle, perplexed, and Ruby chuckled.

"My best friend. Real name's Snowflake, but _never _call her that! She's too sweet to yell at you, but she _hates _it!"

Belle giggled. "I'll remember. I'd like to meet her."

"Next week," promised Ruby. "We can plan a night of female bonding." She grinned at Belle, and took a slurp of coffee. "What do you usually do when you have free time?"

"Read," said Belle honestly, and shrugged. "I like to run, too."

"You do?" Ruby looked pleased. "I can show you some great trails. I love running on a Sunday morning before work. If you like we could go tomorrow."

"Sure," Belle said enthusiastically, taking a drink of her coffee. She was beginning to like Ruby already.

* * *

Once breakfast was done, and she had made plans with Ruby for a run at six-thirty the next morning, Belle left the diner with Gold and walked the short distance to the pawn shop. She was a little nervous; the shop was full of beautiful and fragile things, and she was aware that her history in dealing with precious objects was not exactly stellar. She was relieved when he explained that all he wanted her to do was dust and assist in taking inventory.

"You can ring up sales too, if I'm otherwise engaged," he added, leading her to the cash register. "But no negotiating on price, please. Leave that to me."

"Of course." Belle fingered the black and gold fountain pen that sat next to an open ledger. "Is this for the shop?" she asked, gesturing at the book.

"My rent book," he explained, shutting it and putting it on one of the shelves behind the counter. "There are a couple of tenants I didn't manage to see yesterday, so I'll have to step out for half an hour or so this afternoon."

"That's okay." Belle walked slowly back around the counter, and turned on her heel to face him. "Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll get on with it."

Gold smiled, a brief twist of his lips, and gestured to the curtain. She ducked through, exclaiming in surprise as she saw a battered leather folder on the table. She made to touch it, before snatching her hands back as she remembered the need for gloves. Gold had already donned his own, and was opening up the folder with great care. She watched avidly. There were several documents inside, of old vellum, the writing small and cramped, but still legible.

"What are they?" she asked eagerly, and he looked at her, eyes dark.

"I was hoping you could tell me," he said easily. "I acquired them from a property sale in the north of England. I believe they relate to some of the local history of that area, and of a particular noble family. The vendor wasn't clear on dates, so anything you can draw from the documents would be useful."

Belle rubbed her hands together. "Hang on, let me get my camera," she said, digging in her bag. "I can enlarge any pictures I take. Makes interpreting the text easier, sometimes. I have my laptop with me."

He looked impressed. "An excellent suggestion. If you need any help, please come and see me. I'd like you to work on this until lunch, then cover for me in the shop when I go out."

"No problem," said Belle vaguely, already distracted with the old documents.

Gold watched her for a moment, her fingers delicately spreading out the vellum, and smiled to himself.

* * *

Belle worked until one, whereupon she was startled by Gold's quiet voice in her ear and a cup of tea waved in front of her nose. She straightened up, rubbing her eyes and stretching, and took the drink with a grateful smile. She followed him through to the shop, putting her saucer down on the counter and taking a sip of tea.

"I'll be back in half an hour or so," he said. "We'll get some lunch when I return. Will you be alright here?"

"Of course." She smiled at him over the rim of her cup, her face eager. "Do you want to know what I've found so far?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Tell me tonight," he said finally. "I'm taking you out for Italian." He walked towards the door, turning briefly to look at her. "Stay in the shop, please, no sneaking into the back room." He wagged a finger at her in mock severity, but grinned as he did it and Belle smirked and rolled her eyes as he left the shop.

She picked up the feather duster that sat behind the counter and made her way around the shop, gently dusting the contents of the shelves. Once the dusting was done, she found that she still had ten minutes to go until his return, so she pulled a book from her bag and curled up on the only chair in the outer shop, an antique cushioned armchair in the corner by the window. Engrossed in her book, the jingling of the bell barely registered with her.

"Who are _you_?" A voice made Belle look up, and she saw a young woman standing by the counter, tapping her fingertips on her thigh. Belle hurriedly put down her book and trotted over.

"Hey," she said pleasantly. "I'm Belle."

The young woman looked at her. She was perhaps five or six years older than Belle, taller and black haired. She was slim, but curvaceous, dressed in tight-fitting black pants tucked into knee boots and a fitted leather jacket. Her eyes were large and dark, her skin flawless, and her lips full and painted with dark red lipstick.

"Where's Mr Gold, girl?" she demanded, and Belle straightened up, unused to dealing with such overt hostility.

"He's out," she said, a little more coldly. "Is there something I can help you with?"

The young woman curled her lip. Belle realised that she would be stunningly beautiful without that sneer, and tried to remain pleasant.

"He'll be back soon, if it's urgent," she offered, and the girl glared.

"D'you think I'd be here if it wasn't?" she snapped, and tossed her head. Her hair was swept up on top of her head, the bulk of it cascading in a ponytail that fell down over her shoulder. She seemed worldly, confident, and Belle felt as though she was an insignificant child. With a dirty face. She bristled, not liking the feeling, and placed her hands on her hips.

"Look," she began sternly, but at that point Gold entered the shop. His eyebrows raised slightly, but that was the only sign Belle could see of his surprise when he set eyes on the visitor. He walked slowly to the counter, rounding it so that he was staring back at her. Belle felt strangely glad to have him next to her, as though they were presenting a united front against the young woman's rudeness.

"Ms Mills," he said, in a careful, neutral voice. "It's been some time. Are you well?"

"Save it, Gold," said the girl witheringly, leaning on the counter and glaring at him. "I need to talk to you." She looked pointedly at Belle, and Gold hesitated, before putting his hand into his inside pocket and fishing out a twenty-dollar bill. He extended it towards Belle, the crisp note held between the tips of his first two fingers.

"Miss French, would you please go and get us something for lunch?" he asked mildly. "Something hot, if you please. The air is somewhat chilly, I find."

Belle gave the woman – Ms Mils – a very level look as she shrugged on her coat, receiving a scowl in return, and left the shop, the bell above the door jingling cheerfully as she went.

Gold turned to his visitor, a frown starting to creep across his face. "What are you doing here, Ms Mills?"

"I'm here to offer you a job," she said, lifting the black briefcase she was carrying and slapping it down on the counter. His eyebrows twitched again.

"I'm already quite busy, I'm afraid."

She folded her arms and looked him over with a curl of her lip.

"So I see," she said sneeringly. "Who's the jailbait?"

Gold's jaw clenched. "I beg your pardon?"

She tossed her head back at the door. "The girl. Can't be more than fifteen. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Gold narrowed his eyes. "Allow me to treat that remark with the contempt it deserves," he said coldly. "She's my assistant. Belle French. She's studying ancient languages and I happen to have a great many old manuscripts that require translation. Not that it's any of your business."

She lifted a perfectly-groomed eyebrow, shrugging one shoulder. "Never thought you were as much of a pervert as Midas, but perhaps I was wrong."

He gave her a thin smile. "Well, I can see your mother passed her charm and good manners onto you, dearie."

She sniffed. "_Assistant_," she scoffed. "What, do you make her climb step-ladders in that short skirt of hers, or do you simply watch her bend over and dust stuff? I'm guessing there's a maid's outfit involved somewhere."

He squared his jaw, his fingers tightening on the cane in irritation. "Tell me what you want, or get out. I don't have time for this."

The girl glared at him. "Like I said, I have a job for you."

"May I make an observation?" he asked mildly, leaning back a little. "Your powers of persuasion appear to be somewhat lacking. Non-existent, in fact. I don't see a future in the diplomatic corps." He smiled nastily.

Her mouth worked. "I'll make it worth your while," she said aggressively.

"I highly doubt that…" He started to turn away, already bored.

"Really?" she snapped. "We'll see about that. It's a job that should interest you."

His smile turned wintry. "I have a job. In fact, I have two." He smirked, lifting an admonitory finger. "I really don't see me putting myself out for the likes of you, Regina."

"I think you will," she said softly, her dark eyes gleaming. "For once our interests are aligned."

"Our _interests_?" He chuckled, deep and rich. "Have you heard yourself? You've reached the tender age of – what – twenty-one?"

"Twenty-three," she said defensively. He looked her over critically, waving a hand up and down her form.

"A change of clothes, some leather boots, and all of a sudden you're talking like a badly-written mob boss. Are you going to make me an offer I can't refuse? I have to confess that I remain unconvinced." He grinned at her. "Perhaps you should consider some hired goons. They might lend you a little gravitas while you wait to grow the fuck up."

She flushed, partly in anger. "You're a bastard!"

"Well, some things never change," he said dryly, and rolled his eyes. "Come along then, dearie, amuse me. What interests could I possibly share with you?"

Her eyes flashed. "How about Midas's death?" she snapped, and he went very still. Regina's mouth curled upwards slightly, her eyes knowing.

"Yes, I know all about your little feud with him," she purred. "Mother told me. She said she went to you and…"

"And I told her where to go," he said evenly. "I had no interest in getting involved with your mother's intrigues, and my opinion hasn't changed since her – sad demise."

"I heard he had your son killed," said Regina, with relish, and Gold's fingers clenched over the handle of his cane. His face was impassive, however.

"Indeed," he said. "But this is something for me to deal with. I fail to see what it has to do with you."

She leant on the counter, fixing him with her dark eyes. "I want him _dead_!" she snarled, and Gold chuckled again.

"Well, get in line, dearie, I believe there are many others with the same wish." He turned away from her, and heard the click of latches as she opened up the briefcase.

"Here." He halted at her abrupt tone. "Ten grand. Can you do it?"

Gold spun slowly towards her on the balls of his feet. "You want me to kill Midas," he said flatly. "The most infamous gangster in Boston. Surrounded by large men carrying guns twenty-four-seven. And you're offering me ten thousand dollars to do it. Am I understanding you correctly?"

"Can you do it?" she asked breathlessly, and he smirked.

"Of course…"

"Great!" Her entire face brightened.

"…but I won't," he added, and smiled as her face fell into a scowl.

"Why not?" she demanded, and Gold sighed.

"Because I have no intention of getting involved with that man on anyone's terms but mine," he said flatly. "Certainly not for the paltry sum of ten thousand dollars. Do you have any idea how much I earn in a day from my property portfolio alone?" He smirked at her, and almost laughed as she seemed to deflate before his eyes.

"Please!" she said desperately, clutching the sides of the briefcase, her eyes widening. "This is all I have! It's taken me three years to save this up. I thought you'd help me!"

Gold sighed again. She was too young for a life of vengeance. The thirst for revenge had made her cold and hard, like her mother had been. Perhaps it was not too late.

"Take my advice, Ms Mills," he said gently. "Use the money you've saved to make something of yourself. Your mother would have wanted it, I'm sure."

"Well, I'll never know what she would have wanted!" snapped Regina. "He killed her!"

He gave her a long, steady look, and watched her shoulders slump.

"I'm sorry, Regina," he said quietly, and she shook herself, slamming the lid of the briefcase shut and fastening the clasps.

"Whatever," she said dully, dragging it off the counter and stomping towards the door.

"If you need a place to stay I have several apartments you could look at," he called, as she opened the door.

"Screw you, Gold," she said coldly, and wrenched open the door, the bell jumping almost off its hook. Belle was standing on the other side, her expression startled. Regina shoved past her and marched off down the street, and Belle sidled through the door with paper bags in her hand, which he suspected contained grilled cheese sandwiches. She was frowning after the girl who had just left.

"A – friend of yours?" she asked neutrally, and Gold chuckled.

"Hardly. Her mother was the one-time paramour of an old business rival of mine. She died in – suspicious circumstances. It appears her daughter took it badly."

"Oh." Belle bit her lip. "Poor thing. Does she have a place to stay?"

Gold leant on the counter, fingers splayed as he looked at her appraisingly. "The girl insulted you to your face. Then to mine. Why should you care where she stays?"

Belle shrugged, and walked towards him, handing him one of the paper bags.

"Grief does strange things to people," she observed. "Sometimes you can deal with it, forget the person you loved and move on." She raised her eyes to his. "Sometimes you can't. Sometimes it eats away at you from the inside. Changes you."

There was silence. He looked at her, into her wide blue eyes, remembering the last time he had seen them smiling up at him, before he had left her. Before her…ending. He remembered the _feel _of her, the feel of her beneath him, surrounding him, and shivered slightly. He tried to push away the memories of his anguish, his heartbreak, his failure. She was here, now, with him. She would be his.

"Yes." His voice was quiet. "I suppose, in some cases, it could send you mad."

Belle shrugged. "I'm sure it could." She nibbled on her sandwich, the grease painting her lips. Gold could see a sadness in her eyes, a certain distance in her gaze, as though she was looking into the past. He wondered how far back she could go without the stone to help her; they had never had to try before. He wondered if he'd ever be able to help her remember anything without it.

"You lost someone." It wasn't a question, but Belle nodded.

"My grandmother," she said. "She died when I was eight. Car crash. We were – well, I guess I was closer to her than my own mother." She wrinkled her nose. "Does that make me a bad person?"

"It makes you an honest person," he corrected. "And there are few enough of those in the world, Belle." He unwrapped the hot cheese sandwich, taking a bite as he watched her. He could see her mind whirling, and he knew that she wanted to ask him something. He wasn't sure if he was ready for the conversation, however, so he didn't prompt her. He turned towards the back room, instead.

"Why don't you tell me how you're getting along with the lovely Miss Lucas," he suggested, and Belle's face brightened as she followed him through.

* * *

**A/N: Next time: Gold takes Belle out for dinner, where they discuss what the documents reveal.**


	6. Physical Reactions

**A/N: I couldn't hold off on the smut any longer. Past life smut, I grant you, but smut nonetheless. It follows on from ch 6 of Playing to Win – A Taste of Honey. Prompted by AquaJasmine23, AngelOfMusic44 and Erik'sTrueAngel, who wanted the follow-up to the – er – taste. Let's just say that Belle isn't the only one getting plagued by inappropriate nocturnal visions. The rest of the chapter is non-smutty. **

**Guest: so glad you liked my portrayal of Regina, thank you!**

**Guest (re Chapter 4): he he! More naughty thoughts to come! **

**Erik'sTrueAngel: Thanks for the comments on Regina – I'm glad you felt a bit sorry for her, that's what I was going for. I, too, love Ruby, and wish she was on the show more. Yes, Belle will soon meet Snow and Emma, but Emma doesn't yet know Gold. **

**MyraValhallah, crazykat77, orthankg1, jewel415, deweymay, spacecats, AquaJasmine23, JosephineM and Twyla Mercedes: thank you for your comments xx**

* * *

Gold took Belle to dinner after he locked up the shop, and Belle looked around curiously as he walked her through the quiet streets to the restaurant he had chosen. So far, she had seen very little of Storybrooke, other than the shop and Granny's diner. She wondered where Gold lived, and whether she would ever see it.

"I hope you're hungry," he said, as they walked. She was watching his feet move, shiny black shoes treading slowly along, his limp making them move out of step with hers. She felt an urge to put her arm through his, and fought it down.

"Starving," she admitted, and noticed his small smile from the corner of her eye.

"Good. Marco believes in good food and lots of it," he said, stopping at the door to the restaurant. The smells of garlic, oregano and roasted tomatoes poured out into the street as he pulled open the door for her, and Belle breathed in deeply with a blissful look on her face that made Gold chuckle.

The inside of the restaurant was homely and rustic, small tables set with red and white checked cloths and rickety wooden chairs. It was early in the evening, and the restaurant was relatively quiet, with only a few tables occupied by couples and one family of four that stared at them curiously. Belle was beginning to realise that the inhabitants of Storybrooke were unused to seeing Mr Gold with a dinner companion. They were shown to their table by a young man in his early twenties. He was dark haired and handsome, and winked at Belle when Gold wasn't looking.

"Thank you, Mr Booth," said Gold, nodding at the waiter. "I'll have a glass of that excellent red you served me last week, please. Miss French?"

"I – I'm too young to drink," stammered Belle.

He looked at her patiently. "I wasn't trying to buy you alcohol," he said. "But presumably you require some sort of beverage to have with your evening meal, yes?"

She blushed. "Oh! I mean, I'll have iced tea, if you have it."

"We have an iced peach tea," offered the young man. "Should be just the thing for you." He grinned as he said it, and Belle blushed harder as he made his way to the kitchens.

Gold reached for Belle's jacket, and pulled it gently from her shoulders, his fingers brushing the skin of her bare arms and causing a shiver to run through her. His brow crinkled.

"Are you cold?" he asked, concerned. "I could ask for a table nearer the kitchen, if you like."

"No, it's not…I'm fine," she said, a little flustered. _I just want you to keep on taking things off me and to kiss me and…_

"Belle?" His voice cut through her brief daydream.

"What? Oh." He was holding out her chair, and she slid into it. He sat across from her, watching her curiously, and she buried her head in the menu so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"It's all good, by the way," he said, as she pored over the choices. "I can recommend the chicken in Marsala. The pasta is also excellent."

"Hmm, I like the sound of the linguine with clams," said Belle vaguely. "I think that's what I'll have."

Gold grinned. "A fine choice. They put a little chilli in it."

They ordered when their waiter returned with their drinks, and Gold took a swallow of wine before he raised his eyes to hers, setting down the glass and threading his fingers together. His gaze was dark in the light of the candles set about the restaurant, his fingers sliding together rhythmically, and Belle felt herself shiver again. She took a sip of her drink to cover it. The iced tea was sweet, fruity and delicious.

"So, tell me of your progress," said Gold, and she looked up with a smile.

"Well, I've translated about half of the first of the new documents you brought," she began, leaning forward with enthusiasm. "It's so interesting! It seems to have been written in the fourteenth century. How on earth did you manage to obtain it?"

His face was oddly closed. "I have my sources," was all he said. Belle took another slurp of tea and continued.

"Anyway, the document was written by a monk, Brother Philip, who lived in a monastery in a town called Avonleigh."

"Really?" Gold looked interested. "And what did he have to say?"

"He seems to have been working for the Prior, who was preparing for a visit from some local nobles, the Beauchamp family," she went on. "Brother Philip was in charge of ordering in supplies from the surrounding countryside."

Gold's mouth twisted. "I hope they paid well for what they took," he said, and Belle shrugged.

"I have no idea what it would cost in today's money, but he lists the sums paid out for pigs, chickens and geese, among other things."

"Hmm. I may be able to find other documents on this noble family you mentioned. Anything else?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Not so far. But there are loads of others still to go. I can get on with those during the week. You said you were going to show me how to take inventory next weekend."

"Indeed." He picked up his glass and took another sip of wine, the deep red liquid sending flashes of crimson light across the tablecloth. Belle watched as he put the glass down, his long fingers stroking the stem almost unconsciously. She looked at the ring he wore, curious about its age.

"May I see that?" she asked, and his eyes flashed with something before he held out his hand to hers. She took it, drawing it towards her, and his thumb and fingers closed around hers as she studied the ring. It was chunky, the gold band thick and polished, the stone set within at one moment blue, another grey. She placed one fingertip on the stone, feeling how cool it was, and felt a strange jolt of something as she did so. His grip tightened slightly.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, and she was suddenly aware of the warmth of his hand in hers, the smoothness of his skin. His eyes bored into her, dark pits that wanted to swallow her whole. She dropped his hand as though it had burned her.

"It looks old," she said lamely, and he withdrew his hand slowly, fingers sliding over the tablecloth like tiny serpents, his smooth, manicured fingernails their gleaming heads.

"It's over three hundred years old," he said, and grinned at her widened eyes. "Not quite as old as me, I fear."

Belle gave him a flat look. "Shut up! You're not old!"

"Perhaps I just feel it, then," he said agreeably, flicking his hair out of his eyes, and she giggled.

"Where did you get it?" she asked excitedly, leaning on the table, eyes sparkling with interest. He shrugged.

"Kind of a family heirloom," he said. "I lost it for a while, and then I…got it back."

"I'd like to hear the story," she said, sitting back and taking a drink, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"One day you will," he said.

* * *

Their food arrived, and there was silence for a while as they ate. Belle dug in with a will, finding the linguine delicious. She managed to eat her way through half of the bowl without getting too much of the sauce on herself, and watched as Gold twirled strands of fettuccine around his fork. The sauce he had ordered was spicy sausage, fragrant and warm, and she flicked her eyes to his mouth as he ate, oil the colour of sun-kissed bricks glazing his lips when he sucked in the ends of the pasta. The tip of his tongue swept across, catching the oil and moistening his lips, and she felt that strange clenching feeling deep within once more.

Gold put his fork down momentarily, sitting back to take a sip of wine and making her start. She twisted pasta around her fork, spearing clams with the tines as she went.

"What else have you discovered from the old manuscripts back in Boston?" he asked, and Belle leaned forward, suddenly eager.

"Well, I didn't want to say anything, because I wasn't sure," she began, gesturing with her fork and dropping an errant clam on the tablecloth. "But I've checked it over and over, and I'm sure I'm right." She put the pasta in her mouth, chewing and swallowing, and he looked intrigued.

"Right about what?"

"Now, don't think I'm crazy," she warned. "But I _believe _that one of them might be evidence of some sort of – spell." She looked at him uncertainly, as though she expected him to laugh in her face. He leaned forward a little as well, so that she could feel his cool breath on her face. His hair gleamed in the candlelight, silver and gold threads within the darker mass of it.

"A spell?" he asked quietly. "What kind of a spell?"

Belle sighed, pulling a face. "Not sure," she admitted. "I have some work still to do, but from what's written down there, it seems to be some sort of – binding spell."

"I see." He sat back slowly, tapping his fingers on the table thoughtfully. "And what makes you think that?"

"Well, it uses silver, and rowan, which I'm sure I've read are used in spells for protection," she began, hoping he wouldn't think she was some sort of deluded teenage fan of the occult. "It mentions the four points of a compass, as well," she went on. "But a lot of the symbols – I wouldn't know where to begin, they're just slashes. Not even proper runes. At least, if they are, they're no runes I've ever seen. They might be Ogham, or something I haven't seen before. I don't know enough to tell."

"Hmm." Gold took another drink. "Perhaps we need some help translating them. Let me see what I can conjure up." He grinned at her, and she beamed in reply, tucking into her food once more.

They spent the remainder of the meal talking over the documents, and moved on to Belle's college aspirations. She was surprised how easy she found it to talk to him, once she relaxed. _And once I stop thinking about how he might look naked for five minutes_, she thought. Of course, that immediately made her blush again and her awkwardness briefly returned before he could make her giggle over a tale of the town drunk breaking into the DA's house by accident and sleeping it off on an antique sofa in a pile of his own vomit.

Gold took her back to Granny's afterwards, and Belle shared a quick wave with Ruby, who was serving racks of ribs to two burly men and looking harassed. Belle made her way upstairs, resolving to get an early night and hoping she wouldn't be plagued by any more inappropriate dreams. Across town, Gold was fervently hoping the same.

* * *

_Lira was cross when she awoke, just as she usually was, and jumped off the bed as soon as she had the strength to sit up. Her dark curls bounced in irritation as she stalked to and fro across the packed dirt floor of the cottage, her feet making the fresh rushes scatter._

_"__I don't see why I have to wait around like a bloody idiot while you two know exactly what's going on and just sit there smirking behind my back!" she snapped._

_"__We weren't…" protested Doc, holding up his hands._

_"__I was," said Cameron, with a grin, dark eyes glinting at her. She glared at him._

_"__I know _you _were, you bastard! One of these days _I'm _going to be the one to find the stones first and I'll_ _let _you _two drift along in ignorance and we can see how _you _like it!"_

_"__Yes, perhaps I should have given you the knowledge of our past lives at the age of thirteen," suggested Cameron. "And then you could have spent the next three years trying to sneak into my cottage to pick up where we left off. I'm certain your father would be delighted. He wouldn't have my balls made into buttons, I'm sure."_

_Lira scowled, but accepted the point was valid. "I hate being last," she muttered._

_"__We're getting married tomorrow," Cameron reminded her. "At least you know what to expect." _

_Her eyes narrowed suddenly, and she swooped in to kiss him, her mouth hot and hungry, before pulling back and looking up at him. _

_"_You_ might not," she said innocently, batting her eyelids. He frowned at her as she flounced out of the cottage, and Doc chuckled as he watched her go._

_"__I'd watch out for her," he said, clearly amused. Cameron grunted._

_"__I can handle Lira," he said, secretly wondering whether that was entirely true._

_"__Hmm." Doc shouldered the leather bag of herbs he had been carrying when he entered the cottage. "I seem to recall she's perfectly capable of handling_ you_. Just try to keep the bloody noise down this time, people will be trying to sleep."_

_"__Oh, bugger off!" said Cameron affectionately, and Doc chuckled again as he left._

_The wedding passed in a blur of music and flowers and mead and hot roast pork. Lira danced with Cameron, with Doc, with her father and uncles and all the other elders, until she was breathless and dizzy and her sides hurt from laughing. As the moon rose and the fires burned and the villagers got progressively drunk on the ale and mead, the newlyweds ducked into the cottage and tumbled onto the bed, light-headed and giggling. Cameron flipped her onto her back and began kissing her, making her moan and arch her body into his. He felt her hands pulling at his clothes, and rushed to help her, plucking at laces and tugging his tunic over his head before bending to kiss her once more. Lira reached for him hungrily, her mouth hot and sweet and redolent of mead. His fingers sank into her hair, crushing some of the wildflowers woven through it as his tongue explored her, and he could feel himself swelling, his trousers becoming uncomfortably tight. She clutched at him, pulling him closer, grinding her hips against him and making him gasp._

_"__Sweetheart," he whispered. "Don't let it be over before I please you, hmm?"_

_She fell back into the furs, breathing hard, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with lust. He settled himself between her legs, brushing her hair back from her face._

_"__So beautiful," he said softly, and she smiled, reaching up to touch him, to trail her fingers along his cheek and into his hair. He began to kiss her again, his lips gently pulling at hers as his fingers tugged at the laces of her dress._

_"__I love you," he breathed, reaching inside to free her breasts, enjoying hearing her moan as his thumb scraped across her nipple. "I missed you so much, my love."_

_In answer, she grabbed at him hungrily, her tongue probing his mouth as his hands cupped and squeezed. Her hands moved to his shoulders, and his eyes widened as she suddenly rolled, pushing him onto his back and straddling him. She grabbed the hem of her skirts and tugged the dress over her head, leaving her naked and glowing in the light of the candles and the crackling fire. He took a moment to run his eyes over her, remembering every curve and hollow, the swell of her breasts and the hint of ribs beneath the pale skin of her torso, the dark curls between her thighs. She pushed herself up with her hands on the flat of his naked belly, breathing hard as she gazed down at him, but pulled away when he reached for her. _

_"__What are you doing?" he asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice, and she grinned mischievously, reaching down and cupping him through the soft leather._

_"__You tried something new on me," she said. "I thought I'd do the same."_

_His eyes widened further as she began tugging at his laces, pulling the leather down over his hips and exposing him. The sense of freedom after the confines of the trousers was wonderful, but the look in her eyes was better. She was gazing down at him, blue eyes wide, but knowing, her full lips red from his kisses and her cheeks flushed. She bent her head to his chest, kissing across to his nipple and taking it in her mouth. He groaned, pushing his fingers through her hair, his body craving her. Her tongue swirled around, the edges of her teeth gently scraping the skin, and she licked across to his other nipple. Her fingers plucked at the one she had just left, the flesh hard and taut and moist with her saliva, and the sensation made heat burn through him, his loins tightening._

_"__Let me touch you," he gasped, and heard her giggle._

_"__Not yet," she admonished, and moved lower, her tongue running over the small, hard muscles of his stomach and making them jump uncontrollably. She was very close, her hands sliding over his skin and between his legs, her kisses drawing nearer. He wanted her so badly it was almost painful, the feel of her lips at the top of his thigh an exquisite torture. The first brush of her lips against his cock made him cry out, his body stiffening, and she swept her tongue once over him, sending shivers through his body. He let out a strangled noise and she raised her head to grin at him, her hair falling over her eyes, the wildflowers mussed and untidy. He shook his head._

_"__I'm going to get you for this," he warned, and she giggled again._

_"__Assuming you can walk afterwards," she teased, and bent her head to him, taking him in her mouth without warning. He felt his eyes roll back in his head as he moaned with pleasure at the sensation, at the heat and the wetness and the pressure of her. She began to suck him, rocking backwards and forwards in a steady rhythm, her lips tight around him, her hands sliding up his inner thighs. He could feel his fingers tightening in her hair as he moved his hips in time with her, could feel the heat rising within him, swelling and growing until it was ready to…_

* * *

Gold jerked awake, cursing the cheerful beeping of the alarm clock until the air turned blue before turning onto his front and jamming his face into the pillows with a groan. He was hard and straining, the pressure of the mattress against him a delightful sensation that was not quite – enough. The memories were fresh in his mind, as though it had happened yesterday. He tried to stop thinking about it, but it was impossible; it was as though he could _smell _her in the room with him. Growling in frustration, he rolled onto his back and slowly slid the flat of his hand down his belly. He gripped himself firmly, remembering the feel of her, of her mouth on him, pulling at him, and began to pump his hand, grimacing as the image of Belle swam into his head. He tried to banish her, tried to concentrate on the memory, on the truth of what they had shared. It had been a long time since he'd had to do this, and he couldn't help feeling it was a really bad idea when he'd be seeing Belle in a couple of hours. _It wasn't Belle,_ he told himself firmly. _It wasn't _now_. She was _mine_. She was my _wife_._

* * *

_Lira gazed up at him from her position between his legs, her eyes dark with want, her cheeks hollowing around him. He could feel his entire body stiffening, his pelvis rising up to meet her as she sucked him. Her eyes were large blue pools, dark and inviting, and he knew he couldn't hold it in any longer. He let the wave crash through him, his body rising up off the bed with a hoarse cry as he exploded, feeling as though he was being turned inside out. She was still sucking at him, her throat closing up around him as she swallowed, and he jerked uncontrollably several times before sinking down into the furs as she gently let him slip out of her mouth. He lay there panting, stars spinning around in his vision, and she crawled back up his body, covering his nakedness with hers._

_"__That was different," she said, with a wicked little smile, and he shook his head at her in wonder, his hands cupping her face._

_"__I never need a reminder of why I love you so much," he whispered. "But that was definitely something to bear in mind in the future."_

_She giggled then, and bent to kiss him, the taste of his salt on her tongue._

* * *

Gold put an arm over his eyes with a groan as he tried to steady his breathing, stickiness on his hand and belly. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he'd crossed some sort of line, despite the fact that he had been concentrating hard on the _memory _of his true love, and not her current incarnation. Shaking his head, he pushed himself up on his hands and knees, and reached for his cane, walking naked to the bathroom and firmly turning the shower to cold. This was going to be a bloody nightmare.

* * *

Across town, in room number four at Granny's, Belle was pulling on her sneakers when there was an insistent knock at the door. Ruby was jogging on the spot when Belle answered, her hair tied up in a ponytail and a red woollen beanie hat on her head.

"Come on, running buddy!" she announced cheerfully, and Belle grinned, eyeing Ruby's long legs and thinking ruefully that this was going to be one hell of a workout.

They set off at a brisk jog, turning the corner near Gold's shop and heading out of the town on a hiking trail. Belle had been right about Ruby's height making the difference; the taller girl had a longer stride, and Belle had to increase her pace to keep up. She supposed it would do her good.

"So, how's it going with Gold?" asked Ruby, as they ran along the tree-lined path and deeper into the forest.

"Okay," said Belle, a little breathlessly. "He's going to be showing me how to do inventory and ring up sales, and I've been translating some of his old documents and cleaning the shop."

"How did you end up working for him, anyway?" Ruby asked curiously, and Belle shrugged.

"He's my dad's attorney – my dad invents things and has a lot of patents. I went to deliver some papers to his office and he offered me the job."

"Huh." Ruby looked thoughtful. "Why?"

"I…" Belle frowned. "You know, I'm not exactly sure. I mean, he's been very kind…"

Ruby snorted. "_What?_ _Gold's_ been kind?"

"Yeah." Belle was aware that her employer wasn't well liked in the town, but she hadn't been told why. She could guess, however.

"We are talking about the same guy, here?" Ruby added, looking sceptical. "Mr Gold."

Belle grinned. "Yes. Mr Gold. He's been very kind. And he's polite, and he pays me way over the odds for what I actually do…"

"_Gold_," pressured Ruby. "Small guy. Walks with a cane. Won't cut anyone a break with their rent. Wouldn't surprise me if he secretly makes deals for people's first born children. _That _Mr Gold?"

Belle started to giggle. "The very same."

Ruby wrinkled her nose as she turned her head. "Has he lost his temper yet?"

Belle hesitated. "Yes," she admitted. "But not with me."

Ruby shuddered visibly. "I never saw him lose it, but one or two people have. Apparently he's a total psycho."

Belle frowned. "That's not true," she said. "I mean, he has a bad temper, but he doesn't lose it for no reason."

"Oh." There was silence for a moment as the trail wound up a hill. Belle could feel perspiration beading on her forehead and in the creases by her nose. Ruby looked as fresh as if she'd only just begun.

"So, what was it about?" asked Ruby, as they crested the hill. Belle was panting a little, and it took her some time to answer.

"A man came to his office while I was there," she explained. "Pulled a gun on him and threatened to shoot me."

Ruby stumbled, turning to look at Belle with wide eyes. "Shit! What happened?"

Belle pulled a wry face. "He used his cane to disarm the man and then beat the crap out of him."

Ruby sniffed, drawing a quick hand across her face to wipe away sweat. "Damn! I guess I can let him off on that one, if the guy was threatening you. Would probably do the same."

Belle beamed at her, and Ruby grinned back, showing very white teeth. They ran along in silence for a while, for which Belle was grateful. Her lungs were burning, and the trail had started up another long climb.

"Last hill, and then the trail loops back around to the town," puffed Ruby. She waited until they were at the crest of the hill, then turned to face Belle, jogging backwards for a moment.

"Maybe he wants to get in your pants," she suggested, with an evil smirk, and it was Belle's turn to stumble.

_"__What?"_ She was grateful that her face was already red. Ruby grinned at her.

"Gold. I bet he's secretly a total pervert and he plans on seducing you in his lair."

_I wish_, thought Belle. "Don't be ridiculous," she said aloud, and Ruby chuckled.

"I'm just kidding with you. Never saw Gold with anyone. He only loves money. I'm guessing nothing gets him hot but ledgers and bank balances." She shuddered delicately. "And now I'm thinking about what gets Gold hot. Smash me in the head with something, okay Belle? That dead branch should do."

She turned back around and fell into step beside Belle, and the two girls let their stride open out on the way back into town. Belle matched Ruby's pace, the flush on her cheeks the perfect disguise. She was also thinking about what might get Gold hot, and the mental images were highly distracting.

* * *

They travelled back to Boston that afternoon in comfortable silence, Gold again working on some papers he had and Belle reading – this time one of her school textbooks. When they pulled up outside her house he drew a thick envelope from his inside pocket and handed it to her.

"Your wages," he explained. Belle hesitated.

"Would it be too much trouble if I asked you to pay most of it into an account in future?" she asked and he smiled at her.

"No trouble at all," he said. "Give me the details tomorrow evening."

"Thanks." She took the envelope, feeling the thick wad of bills inside. "I'm trying to save for college. Can't depend on Mum and Dad making provision."

He frowned slightly at that, but nodded.

"Thank you for your assistance, Miss French," he said formally. "I'll see you tomorrow evening.

Belle smiled. She felt like pecking him on the cheek, but realised it was highly inappropriate. She got out of the car and thanked Dover, who was holding open the door. Tucking the envelope of cash in her bag, and making a mental note to hide it from her mother and pay the majority of it into her savings account, she watched the Cadillac purr away down the street.

* * *

Gold called Doc when he got home, and arranged to meet that evening. He spent the hours until then hunting through his collection of old papers, looking for suitable items to give to Belle. The process was slow, and he was relieved when the doorbell rang and Doc appeared with a bottle of wine in his hand.

"So, how's it going?" asked Doc, as he opened the wine. Gold pulled a face.

"It seems harder this time around," he admitted, and the little man chuckled.

"You've been without her too long," he said knowingly, and Gold sat back in his chair, running his hands through his hair in agitation.

"Patience always came easy to me in the past," he said. "I'm having difficulty keeping focused. I'm not sure it was such a good idea to keep her this close."

Doc snorted. "I know what you two are like! If it wasn't you instigating things it would be her. Besides, don't you want her to get to know you?"

"Of course…" Gold pushed himself to his feet again and began to pace, the tip of his cane clicking on the floor tiles.

"So, what is it?"

"I feel like I'm lying to her," he said quietly, and Doc looked surprised, pouring the wine.

"What lies have you told her?" he asked curiously, and Gold grimaced.

"Nothing. Nothing – direct, I suppose. But I'm not being straight with her."

Doc shrugged, taking a sip. "It never bothered you before."

"That's because I was always certain!" snapped Gold, waving an irritated hand. "There was a pattern to everything. You found me, we found the stone, we found her. I had a few years to teach her things as she became a woman, and then we gave her the memories. That's how it was. Not this… this…" He broke off, sighing again.

"I know," said Doc patiently. "The business in Avonleigh…" He sighed. "You know how it affected everything, Marcus. Things are – complicated."

"Complicated is an understatement," muttered Gold, still pacing.

Doc sighed, running a hand over his face. "Have a drink."

Gold turned on his heel, snatching up his glass with a bad grace. "I feel as though I'm stumbling through this, Doc." He took a drink and let his head drop. "She's so young."

"She had to grow up fast, previously," Doc reminded him.

Gold gave a wry smile, swirling the wine in his glass. "She hasn't even yelled at me yet," he added.

"Give it time," said Doc blandly. Gold leant back against the table, propping the cane next to him and running his free hand through his hair again.

"I'm not being fair to her," he said reluctantly, and Doc rolled his eyes.

"So, tell her, if it's upsetting you," he suggested. Gold frowned at him.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"You either tell her, or you don't," reasoned Doc. "It's a straight-up choice. What's the problem?"

"Well, we don't have the bloody stone, do we?" Gold snapped. "How the bloody hell am I supposed to wake her up without it? We don't even know where to bloody well look!"

"Something will turn up," said Doc soothingly. "It always does."

"Yes, well, we've never had to wait this long for the thing before," grumbled Gold. "It would be just my bloody luck to finally find her and not ever be able to wake her." He let his head roll back, eyes to the ceiling. "This is a bloody nightmare."

"Don't be so melodramatic," said Doc crossly. "You know she feels the connection, there's no reason to think you won't be able to wake her. Perhaps you could try explaining things to her one day, if the stone doesn't surface any time soon."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" demanded Gold, beginning to pace again. "I can't exactly say 'Belle, I know we've just met, but we're destined to be together and I knew you and loved you in every past life I've known. Fancy getting a drink sometime?'." He curled his lip, shaking his head. "She'd think I was bloody crazy. I'm not so sure she wouldn't be right."

"Well, you've really got this feeling sorry for yourself thing down perfectly, haven't you?" remarked Doc, taking off his glasses to clean them. "I don't see what the problem is. We _found _her! You should be over the moon!"

"I am," insisted Gold. "I'm just – I hate all this _waiting_."

Doc frowned at him. "What you mean is, after all the lives we spent searching, you're desperate to kiss her?"

"Amongst other things," growled Gold, and wagged a finger at Doc's rolled eyes. "And don't you start judging me, you have no idea how this feels!"

"True," Doc agreed. "But I missed her too, you know." His face was somewhat reproachful.

"I know," sighed Gold, leaning on the table. He hesitated. "I had a – dream about her." He raised his head to face Doc, looking both uncomfortable and guilty. Doc sighed and shook his head.

"Marcus…"

"I know, I know, I'm a terrible terrible person!" Gold pushed himself away from the table, pacing again. "It was a memory, anyway, and she knew who she was, but it doesn't make things any bloody easier."

"Then I suppose that's your cross to bear," said Doc, which Gold found singularly unhelpful. He glared at Doc, frustration etched on his face, gesturing impatiently.

"Tell me your visions have told you something. Anything!"

Doc shrugged. "Sorry, Marcus."

"Bloody useless!" growled Gold, and the little man frowned, putting down his glass.

"Well, I can see you're not fit company for anyone right now," he said sternly. "Why don't I give you a call when I know something?"

"Fine, fine," said Gold distractedly. "Sorry, I'm just…" He waved a hand.

"Hmm." Doc stood, pulling on his coat. "Look, why don't we meet up next time you take her to Storybrooke? I can show her around the university."

Gold looked up, surprised. "You got the professorship at Storybrooke?"

"Well, of course I did!" said Doc, with a touch of indignation. "I'll have you know it was quite a coup for them. The offer is very generous."

Gold stopped pacing, and held out a hand. "Congratulations," he said sincerely, and Doc grinned.

"See?" he said. "Everything's falling into place."

* * *

**A/N: Bless Gold and his smutty dreams.**

**Next time: Belle meets Snow, and a young girl comes to Storybrooke seeking a place to stay.**


	7. Girls' Night

**A/N: Okay, next chapter. No funny business, imagined or otherwise. Sorry.**

**MyraValhallah, orthankg1, spacecats, Kiri Huo Ziv, deweymay, JosephineM, jewel415, RaFire, Twyla Mercedes, crazykat77, AquaJasmine23, Grace5231973, Erik'sTrueAngel, Charlotte Ashmore, AngelOfMusic44, AbbieWood: thank you all for your lovely comments.**

* * *

Belle spent her two evenings at Gold's office working on the translation she had previously been looking over. It was part of a bundle of papers that included what looked like other spells, if her initial hunch was correct, and she was desperate to learn what the strange marks that appeared on the vellum meant. She had spoken little with him throughout the time she had been there; after Mrs Potts had left for the evening, Gold had buried himself in his paperwork and Belle had been engrossed in the work she had been doing. It was only on Thursday, when they left for the night, that she started talking to him about the documents. Gold had smiled at her enthusiasm as he drove her home, Belle talking over her discoveries with urgent hand gestures that threatened to hit him in the face at times.

"I think you'll be interested in my plans for this weekend," he said, when she finally drew breath. "I'm inviting a guest for dinner on Saturday. That Professor Short I mentioned."

Belle almost jumped up and down in her seat with enthusiasm, making him chuckle.

"Oh! I can bring him my photographs of the documents!" she said excitedly. "Can I? He won't mind, will he?"

"I rather suspect he'll enjoy the opportunity to show off," remarked Gold, checking his mirror as he overtook a rickety old Ford. "I've asked him to come to the house for seven."

Belle settled down, turning her head to eye him curiously. He was watching the road ahead, his hair stirring slightly in the air-conditioning.

"House?" she said. "Your house?"

"That's right," he said calmly. "I'll have Dover take you back to Granny's afterwards. Is that alright?"

"Um – sure." Belle sat quietly, a thousand thoughts churning through her mind. She watched him change gear, his knuckles tightening over the gear lever, the tendons in the back of his hand jumping as he did so. Light glinted on his ring as he returned his hand to the wheel.

"Is your house in Storybrooke?" she prompted.

"It is," he answered, stretching a little in his seat. "A little out of the main town. You can see all the way to the forests from the back windows." He flashed a brief smile at her.

"What about dinner?" she asked, and he gave her a long-suffering look.

"I'm perfectly capable of cooking, Miss French," he said dryly. "I've reached the age of forty-two without starving to death or poisoning myself, thank you."

She secretly thought that he didn't look as though he ate enough, but said nothing.

"Okay, well, maybe I'll cook for you next time," she suggested, and his mouth twitched.

"I'm sure that would be delicious," he said, and turned into her road, pulling up outside her front door. Belle bid him goodnight, excited about the prospect of the dinner meeting, and practically skipped into the house.

* * *

They left his office at five on the dot the next night, and Belle buried her head in her history textbook while Gold went through some paperwork on the seat beside her. Summer was fast approaching, but the night was cool, and Belle tugged the small cardigan she was wearing around herself as the car drove into Storybrooke. Dover pulled up outside Granny's and immediately got out to take her bag from the trunk and open the door. Gold was by her side surprisingly quickly for a guy with a limp, and helped her up out of the car. Belle flashed him a smile, and one at Dover as she took her small case from him.

"Well, why don't you go and get settled in?" said Gold. "I'm sure you'd like the chance to freshen up, and then we can…"

"Belle, you're here!" Ruby's voice made her look around, and the other girl pulled her into a hug. "Great! Snow's here, we're totally having a sleepover!"

"Miss Lucas," said Gold evenly, and Ruby looked up, pulling back from Belle and looking a little flustered.

"Hey – uh – Mr Gold," she said. "Belle's being kidnapped. Friday night is girls' night." She gave him a somewhat uncertain grin as she said it, and Belle was amused to note that his eyebrows raised slightly, his mouth twitching.

"Well, I was about to take Miss French to dinner…" he began, but Ruby shook her head vehemently.

"She _has _to be there for girls' night," she said hotly. "A woman's primary duty is to the sisterhood, it's the law!"

He looked amused, and raised an eyebrow at Belle. "Is that so, Miss French?"

"It is," she said, with a grin. "It's the female equivalent of – um…" She looked at Ruby uncertainly.

"Bros before hoes," supplied Ruby helpfully. Gold looked pained.

"I hate to think what the alternative…"

"Chicks before dicks," interrupted Ruby, with a grin, and he sighed.

"Understood," he said wearily. "Miss French, I'll see you at eight-thirty tomorrow." He climbed back into the car, Dover immediately pulling away, and Ruby watched them go with an avid expression.

"Does he always call you 'Miss French'?" she asked, and Belle shrugged.

"Only when he's being formal." She frowned thoughtfully. "Which is most of the time, come to think of it. Sometimes he calls me Belle."

"Hmm." Ruby pursed her lips. "He _is _kinda old-fashioned. He's the only person in this town to call me Miss Lucas." She clutched Belle's hands. "Come and meet Snow! I hope you brought your PJs!"

Snow was a pretty, slender girl with short dark hair and very pale skin. At first she seemed an unlikely match for Ruby, being somewhat more reserved and less inclined to make suggestive comments. Belle discovered, however, that she had a sweet nature coupled with a dry sense of humour, and liked her immensely. The three girls were soon in their pyjamas, eating Rocky Road ice cream from the tub and drinking hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon. Belle found out that Snow was around a year older than her, and would be eighteen the following January.

"What are you going to do when you finish school?" she asked, and Snow smiled.

"I want to teach," she said. "I've been helping out at the school in Storybrooke two afternoons a week. So it's college next fall for me."

"Any luck finding a place to stay yet?" asked Ruby, and Snow wrinkled her nose.

"Nothing. Mr Gold has four empty apartments at the moment, and they're all lovely, but I can't afford them on my own. There's this gorgeous loft apartment…" She shook her head wistfully. "I'd love it, but it's two bedrooms, and I won't be able to rent that on what I have coming in." She sighed, digging in the tub of ice cream. "I could _really _do with getting my own place before college starts."

"Snow's parents are kind of – odd," explained Ruby, as Belle was looking confused.

Snow nodded ruefully. "I love them, but to be honest they drive me crazy sometimes," she confessed. "They think that a formal education is a waste of time, and that I ought to be travelling the world and living on a commune somewhere. Which would be fun, don't get me wrong, but I _really_ want to teach kids, so I need the grades."

"Can't you get a roommate?" asked Belle, and Ruby snorted.

"If Granny would let me move out I'd totally room with you, honey, but as it is…"

"I know," said Snow, with a shrug. "Something'll turn up." She took a slurp of her cocoa. "What about you, Belle? What do you want to do when you finish school?"

Belle frowned thoughtfully. "I want to study English," she said slowly. "And ancient languages. I may – I don't know – I had thought about going into academia, but I guess I'll know more when I start college."

"Well, I'm gonna do forensics, if I get the grades," offered Ruby, sticking her finger into the whipped cream and sucking it off with a grin. "Granny thinks I'm a total slacker, but I actually want to do this. My teachers all say I'm capable, just unfocused." Her grin widened. "Which just proves that none of them were ever teenagers, if you ask me. I focus on a _ton_ of shit. Just – not lessons." She shrugged. "Not often enough, anyway."

"What makes you want to do forensics?" asked Belle, and Ruby looked a little self-conscious."

"I have this – knack for finding things," she said, a little awkwardly. "I love solving mysteries and finding answers. Plus, chemistry's my favourite subject. I thought I could combine them, do some good." She grinned at them again, flicking her hair out of her eyes. "Catch some bad guys, maybe."

"You can totally do it," Snow assured her. "I'll even study with you, if it'll help."

"Me too," said Belle eagerly, then her face fell. "Oh. I guess I won't really be around except on weekends, though."

"No studying on Friday nights," ordered Ruby, gesturing fiercely with her spoon, and Belle giggled. Snow nudged her.

"Storybrooke University's pretty cool, you know. Maybe we could go take a look around sometime. You might decide to come here."

"How long are you going to be working for Mr Gold?" asked Ruby, and Belle frowned.

"I'm not sure," she said, biting her lip. "He hasn't said. I was considering the university, though, before I even got the job. I guess it wouldn't hurt to take a look some time. If I could work at the same time…" She looked thoughtful. "Well, it would help with the expense, wouldn't it?"

Ruby and Snow exchanged glances. "Won't your parents help out?" asked Snow carefully, and Belle chuckled ruefully.

"Oh, they'll totally _mean _to, I'm sure, but my Dad's hopeless with money and Mum – well, she kind of spends it as soon as he earns it." She dug her spoon into the ice cream again. "I know they've put some money aside, but I'm not betting on it being enough."

"That sucks," said Ruby, with feeling. "I know Granny's budgeted for my college education, but I'll still keep on working shifts for fun money." She grinned widely. "Oh, it'll be so cool if we all go together! Snow, you can be the Mom, because you'll know everything about college before we get there."

"Sure." Snow shrugged. "I could show you the best study areas."

"You could show us the library, and the gym," added Belle.

"You can point out which guys caught STDs in their first year…" added Ruby, nodding, and the others giggled.

"College will be – interesting – with you two around," remarked Snow, licking her spoon.

* * *

Belle started work early the next day, Mr Gold informing her that he had brought along several boxes of books that a resident of the town had pawned and had not redeemed. Belle felt by turns sad for the person that had been desperate enough to pawn their library, and eager to search through the boxes in search of possible hidden treasures. Gold showed her how to enter receipts in the ledgers that he kept, and how to ring up sales, although they had no customers when she was in there. She secretly wondered how he stayed in business, and suspected that the majority of his earnings came from his property portfolio and the loans he extended to people. She quickly grasped the system he used for inventory and recording sales, although she was amused by the complete lack of computerised equipment in the shop; she had not considered him to be so old-fashioned. After lunch, he whispered that he would be chasing up a couple of non-paying tenants, and left her with a pile of receipts to enter into the books.

Belle heard the tinkling sound of the shop door opening, and looked up from the ledger she was writing in. A girl stood there, perhaps a year or two older than her, in dark jeans and heavy boots, blonde hair falling past her shoulders. She had a backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Hey," she said, her tone short, clipped, a wary look on her face. Belle smiled.

"Can I help you?" she asked, and the girl took a step towards the counter.

"I'm looking for Mr Gold," she said. "He here?"

"He'll be back any minute, he's just gone to collect something," said Belle. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

The girl hesitated. "It's okay, I'll wait," she said, and began making her way slowly around the shop, running her eyes over the items on the shelves. Belle turned back to the ledger, painstakingly entering the details she had taken from that morning's inventory as she listened to the girl's boots treading across the wooden floor. The clink of glass made her look up, and she saw that the girl had reached up to touch the mobile of tiny unicorns. Light swirled and danced in broken rainbow patterns as the unicorns swung merrily. The girl was frowning slightly.

"Do you work here?" she asked suddenly, and Belle shrugged.

"Kind of. I help Mr Gold out on weekends." She looked the girl over curiously. "I haven't seen you before. Are you new to Storybrooke?"

"Yeah." The girl didn't elaborate, and Belle didn't like to pry. At that moment she saw Gold's shadow appear through the glass of the shop doorway. He gave the girl a curious look as he entered, limping to the counter to stand beside Belle.

"Are you Mr Gold?" asked the girl, and he nodded, his eyes flicking over her, calculating.

"Indeed I am, dearie. And you are?"

"Swan," said the girl bluntly. "Emma Swan."

He blinked, lifting one hand to rest it on the ledger Belle had been writing in. "And what can I do for you, Miss Swan?"

She rummaged in her backpack, drawing out an envelope and thrusting it at him. Gold opened it up with a flick of his thumbnail and drew out several pieces of paper that had been folded together. Belle tried not to sneak a look as he read through them.

"Quite an impressive reference," he said. "It would appear someone is eager for you to come to Storybrooke, Miss Swan."

"Well, what can I say?" she said dryly. "I had too much fun in Boston and decided that picket fences and people who can't keep their noses out of my business was the way to go."

Gold chuckled softly. "So I take it you require an apartment?"

"I can pay," she said hastily, although he hadn't mentioned anything. "I'm good for it, Mr Gold."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," he said quietly. "I don't suffer non-paying tenants, Miss Swan, as anyone in Storybrooke will tell you. Fortunately your – benefactor – has assured me that you have sufficient funds to pay your rent for the next six months." He held up a finger. "Let me get my rent book, we'll see what I can offer you." He pushed aside the curtain to the back room, leaving the two girls alone.

"Are you looking for work?" piped up Belle. "Granny's diner is hiring if – if that's what you want to do, I mean I don't _know_ what you do, but…" She broke off lamely, and the girl – Emma – smiled. She was really quite lovely, Belle realised, her grim expression had hidden it somewhat.

"I have a job with the sheriff's station," she explained, collecting up her papers. "I'm guessing it begins with coffee and doughnut runs, but a girl's gotta start somewhere, am I right?"

Belle grinned at her, rolling her eyes as if to say that she knew that very well.

"Well, if you need anything, I'm staying at Granny's. Room four," she said. "I'm Belle, by the way. Ruby knows Storybrooke better than me, and I bet she'd show you around if you needed it. She works at the diner, and her Granny owns the place. The pancakes are_ really_ good." She nodded to emphasise the point, and Emma smiled.

"I'll remember. I may have to stay there a couple of nights, depending on how the apartment thing works out," she said.

"There are four apartments available and ready to move into," announced Gold, carrying his heavy rental ledger through. "I have the particulars." He fished a sheaf of papers out of the ledger and spread them on the counter, showing interior and exterior photographs of the apartments, the prices in bold figures at the top of each set. Emma bit her lip, frowning slightly.

"Do you have anything cheaper?" she asked. "The first six months is covered, but after that…"

"Alas, no," he said quietly. "Have you considered sharing?"

She pulled a face then. "I'm kind of a loner."

Gold shrugged. "I'm aware that there is a young woman around your age that is looking to rent with someone. I could put you in touch with her."

Emma frowned. "You sure know a lot of girls," she said suspiciously, eyeing Belle. "If you think I'm paying for this apartment with anything but cash you can bite me."

Gold's eyebrows shot up, and Belle giggled.

"I am a pawnbroker, Miss Swan, not a pimp," he said dryly. Emma snorted.

"Same thing, isn't it?"

"Hardly." He closed the rent book, placing his hands flat on the top, fingers splayed. "Desperate people come to me and I give _them_ money."

"And then charge them ridiculous rates of interest for the privilege," she remarked, and he favoured her with a wintry smile.

"Then you had best pay your rent on time, hadn't you, dearie?" he said easily, and she frowned, tapping her foot.

"Okay, so tell me about this other girl."

"Miss Blanchard is an entirely wholesome aspiring schoolteacher with somewhat unconventional parents," he said. "Not a streetwalker."

Emma hesitated. "I guess I could meet her," she said unwillingly. "It's either that or I cut back drastically on luxuries like food and gas."

Gold chuckled again. "I believe that you and Miss Blanchard will get along very well," he said, and Belle nodded.

"Snow's lovely," she put in, and Emma gave her a quick look.

"Okay," she said, with a little less reluctance than she had.

"If you like, we could have a look around the apartments now," added Gold. "Why don't I give Miss Blanchard a call and ask her to meet us at the first?"

At her nod, he took one of the large bunches of keys he left in the safe, and asked Belle to mind the shop while they stepped out. Belle watched them leave, Emma's blonde hair swinging as she walked, and wondered what had brought the girl to Storybrooke. She hoped that she would get along with Snow (although she couldn't imagine anyone that _wouldn't _get along with Snow) and that the two of them could get the apartment that Snow was desperate for. It made her start thinking again about the direction her own life was taking, and she resolved to check out the university as soon as she could. She crossed to the other counter, on which the pile of books that had been recently acquired by Mr Gold awaited her attention, and began looking through them.

* * *

Gold returned some time later, without Emma, and locked his bunch of keys back in the safe. Belle gave him a questioning look, and he smiled slightly.

"Miss Swan and Miss Blanchard seem to get on well enough," he said. "I've decided to let them have the loft apartment. Miss Blanchard was rather insistent."

"Oh, I'm so pleased they got somewhere," said Belle, setting aside a book she had been looking through. "Will they be moving in right away?"

"Monday," he said. "I've suggested to Miss Swan that she stays at Granny's in the meantime. I think you'll like her."

"I do." Belle picked up the pile of books and carried them to the shelf she had cleared for them. She began to stack them carefully, pushing one in beside the other, the scent of their dusty old bindings reminding her of a library, and making her smile.

"What's her story?" she asked. "Why has she come to Storybrooke?"

Gold shrugged. "I assure you she didn't tell me, but no doubt that's something you can ask her yourself."

"She said she has a job at the sheriff's station," said Belle thoughtfully.

"Indeed." He leant back against the bookcase to the side of her, and she could smell his cologne as he reached across and idly picked one of the books off the pile she held. "Is there anything particularly valuable here?"

"A few early editions," admitted Belle. She looked at him, suddenly shy. "I – made some suggestions on prices, if you wanted to look them over."

His eyebrows quirked with interest. "By all means. Bring them over to the counter."

Belle grinned at him, scooping the books back into her arms, and trotted over to his side with a spring in her step.

* * *

Despite Gold saying that her hours of work were eight-thirty to five-thirty, Belle found herself leaving the shop with him an hour later than planned. She didn't mind. They had had their heads together over the stock of old books that afternoon, and Gold had agreed with some of the prices she had suggested (not all, by any means, but she was pleased that he had considered some of her guesses fairly accurate, nonetheless). He had shown her how to list the individual items in the inventory and had favoured her with a gleaming smile that made her blush when the task was done.

"We'll make an antiquities dealer of you yet, Miss French," he said, and Belle almost squirmed with pleasure at the glint in his eyes. She was still smiling when he ushered her out of the door with the flat of his hand against the small of her back, the warmth of his skin seeping through her dress. Belle chattered happily about the books as he drove them through Storybrooke, until he pulled up beside a large Victorian house that was an unusual shade of…

"Pink," said Belle, looking at him quizzically.

"It's salmon, Miss French," he said tersely, and she giggled.

"Whatever you say, Mr Gold. Take me inside your salmon house."

She opened the door, swinging her legs out, and Gold smiled to himself as he turned off the engine.

Belle waited with her laptop and purse while he made his way up the steps, looking around curiously. She could see that the gardens were well-tended, and assumed he had someone taking care of them. She followed him into the hallway, and stood around a little nervously as he shut the door and took her coat.

"Please, make yourself at home," he said. "I'll just be in the kitchen."

Belle wandered slowly around the lounge, taking in everything. The house was as cluttered as his shop, trinkets and antique furniture everywhere, but it somehow worked. She ran her hand over the curving back of a chaise-longue, imagining how it would feel to curl up on it with a book. The room had a carved marble fireplace, she noticed, and she closed her eyes, picturing the room in winter, crackling flames and candles. She smiled to herself. Setting her purse down on the chaise-longue, she made her way through to the dining room, and found a long mahogany table with eight chairs, an ornate sideboard with thick candelabras on it and a small drinks cabinet. She tried to picture him eating in there, and the image of him sitting at the large table on his own in that silent room made her feel sad for him. She wondered if he was lonely.

She could hear noises coming from the kitchen, and made her way towards it, smiling when she found him in an apron, cutting up potatoes. The kitchen was large, a far more informal table set with salt and pepper grinders and surrounded by six chairs stood off to the side, and the worktops were gleaming black granite. The oven was on and heating up, a cast iron casserole dish on the worktop beside Gold. Belle lifted the lid and the scent of garlic, herbs and savoury chicken wafted up at her.

"It smells good," she said, and he smiled at her.

"I made it last night," he said. "Should be enough for the three of us, it just needs heating through." He gestured to the dresser to the side of her. "Would you lay the table, please Belle? Placemats and cutlery are in the drawers."

Belle was laying out knives and forks when the doorbell rang. She spun on the ball of her foot, looking at Gold, and he put down his knife and wiped his hands on the apron. Belle bobbed up and down on her toes excitedly as she heard him opening the front door, the mumble of voices in the hallway.

"Miss French, may I present Professor Short," announced Gold, as he was followed into the kitchen by a round little man even shorter than Belle, though admittedly not by much. He was beaming at her, blinking through round, gold-rimmed glasses from beneath a mop of white hair, and reached out to take her outstretched hand.

"Lovely to meet you, my dear," he said kindly. "Marcus tells me that you have some old documents for me to look at."

"I've read pretty much everything you've written!" blurted Belle, almost before he'd finished speaking, pumping his hand, her eyes wide with excitement. "I didn't _understand _all of it, but I read it anyway! Are you really going to be publishing a new work on the interpretation of runes? Did you ever find out what the markings on those hog-back tombstones meant? Do you think it's really true that some priests misinterpreted an inscription on that old vault in the north of England and got sucked into another dimension? That _can't _be true, can it? Can it?"

Professor Short looked slightly bemused by her sudden onslaught, and Gold chuckled as he returned to the oven.

"Let the man sit down and take a breath, Belle," he said gently, and Belle blushed, dropping the professor's hand.

"I'm sorry – this is very exciting for me, that's all," she said a little breathlessly. "Sorry, Professor. I'm not really a nutcase."

The little man waved a hand, chuckling. "Oh, just call me Doc, dear. Everyone does." He pulled out a chair and sat down. "Why don't we look over what you have for me after dinner, hmm?"

"Okay," said Belle eagerly, and bounced over to Gold. "Do you need any help? Can I do anything?"

He looked at her, amused by her enthusiasm, and pointed at one of the chairs.

"You can sit down and talk to Doc about Storybrooke University," he said. "He's going to start teaching there this autumn."

Belle hurriedly sat down, and started quizzing Doc about the facilities, starting with the library. Gold put the dish of chicken in the oven and put the potatoes on to steam before joining them, pouring wine for Doc and himself and handing Belle a glass of water. He leant back against the worktop to listen to them, taking a swallow of wine as he watched. Belle was talking animatedly, her hands gesturing wildly as she discussed her plans for college studies, and Doc tried to interject here and there with an observation. Gold smiled to himself. It was almost like old times.

It was another twenty minutes before the food was done, by which time he had drunk his glass of wine rather quickly on an almost empty stomach, which made him a little light-headed. Once the potatoes were mashed, Gold moved to take the dish of chicken from the oven and set it on the worktop, kicking the oven door shut as he did so and dropping the oven gloves.

"Do you need a hand?" asked Belle, and he gestured to the dresser, where three plates sat.

"If you could, please." He was enjoying having her in his kitchen; it was making him think of the past, of the times they had cooked together. Her smile made him absurdly happy as she bustled past him to collect the plates. Without looking at what he was doing, he reached for the lid of the dish of chicken, and promptly burned his fingers.

"Fuck!" He took a step back, wringing his hand and glaring at the dish, and Belle shook her head with a sigh.

"Quick, get them under some water." She pulled him over to the sink, running the tap, and took his hand, holding it under the cold water. He was furious with himself; his fingers throbbed, and if he wasn't mistaken he'd have blisters there. All down to the welcome distraction of her smile and her eyes, so he supposed he deserved it.

"And here I thought I was the clumsy one," chided Belle gently, her thumb unconsciously stroking the back of his hand as she held it in the water. He swallowed hard, her closeness making him want to take her in his arms and kiss her thoroughly. She was looking up at him curiously, her eyes large pools of clear blue. There was a lump in his throat that he couldn't seem to get rid of. She was so close he could see every one of her eyelashes.

"Do you want to put some ice on that, Marcus?" Doc's voice made him start, and Belle pulled away, blushing slightly. Gold removed his hand from the cold water and towelled it dry. Inspecting his fingertips, he could see shiny red burns, and scowled. _Idiot!_

"Pour the wine," he told Doc abruptly, and began dishing up the food.

* * *

After dinner, Belle opened up her laptop, and Gold washed the dishes as she and Doc went through the images that she had taken of the old documents.

"I'm pretty sure these are runes," she said, a little self-consciously. "But they're not too clear, there are lots that I don't recognise."

Doc frowned at the screen, taking off his glasses to polish them.

"This is an old dialect, and uncommon," he mused. "Where did this come from?"

"It was one of the manuscripts; Mr Gold said they were copied by someone in the eighteenth century from earlier works," she said. "Some gentleman with an interest in antiquities, I suppose." She eyed Doc hopefully. "Can you read it?"

"Indeed." He straightened up, setting his glasses back on once more. "This, my dear, is a warning." He paused for dramatic effect, and Gold rolled his eyes, stacking plates on the draining rack.

"A warning?" asked Belle softly. "Of what?"

Doc shrugged. "Hard to say. The inscription is incomplete. It says that the elders have ruled that none shall pass this way, on pain of banishment."

Belle's eyes grew large and round with interest. Doc tapped a line of scratched runes with a stubby finger.

"And see this here? Can you read that? It's similar enough to standard runes."

Belle pulled a face, frowning in concentration. "I thought I recognised this, but I wasn't sure. Dark?"

He nodded. "It says _Mrykhollr_. Dark Hollow."

"Sounds inviting," remarked Belle, and he chuckled.

"And here it says that death waits and watches."

"Comforting," she nodded. "What does it mean?"

Doc shrugged. "Perhaps it was simply an example of the tribal leaders trying to keep their people in line. Perhaps it was something more. There is so much that we don't understand of those times."

Belle sat down with a sigh. "It's fascinating, isn't it?" she said softly, and tried to hide a yawn behind her hand. Gold wasn't fooled.

"Come, Belle, it's almost ten-thirty," he said. "Let me call Dover, have him take you back to Granny's." He held out a hand to her, and she took it, bouncing up out of her chair and almost catapulting herself into him.

"Please, let me stay and talk to Doc!" she pleaded, her hands on his chest, making him catch his breath. "I'll be good, I promise!" She batted her eyelashes, still excited from her discussions, and his throat bobbed in consternation.

"Doc has to go home too," announced the little man cheerfully. "I have to go and look around the university tomorrow. They're giving me an office on the top floor. Apparently it's haunted." He winked at Belle, and she giggled, but she stepped back from Gold, both to his relief and his frustration.

Belle was almost skipping as she left the house, a tiny doll next to Dover's tall hulking frame, and as soon as the Cadillac pulled away Gold shut the door and leant back against it with a sigh.

"God, I need a cigarette!" he growled, letting his head drop. Doc chuckled.

"How long has it been?" he asked knowingly, and Gold grimaced, his hair hanging in his face.

"Three months," he admitted. "Bloody nightmare. I'm trying very hard not to find another addiction to take my mind off this one. And then we find _her_. I can't work out if it's helping my cravings or making them worse."

"If it's any consolation, you look better," offered Doc, and Gold grunted something under his breath.

"You smell better, too," added Doc, and Gold glared at him, making him chuckle. The two men went through to the lounge, and Doc sat down on the sofa while Gold poured them both a whisky. Doc took a sip, smacking his lips appreciatively.

"Well?" asked Gold, and he shrugged.

"I think you're going to find this a very long eighteen months," he said, which Gold found singularly unhelpful.

"You don't say," he said dryly.

"If it makes you feel any better, I think she will too," noted Doc, and Gold sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"If you have any pearls of wisdom to impart, now would be a good time."

Doc shook his head. "Sorry, Marcus. I'm afraid you'll just have to be patient."

Gold grunted. "And the work?"

Doc frowned. "It may help her remember. Hard to say. We may need something more. Triggers. Something that will…" He tapped his fingertips on the table thoughtfully. "Something that will help her to break through her block."

Gold eyed him closely. "You haven't seen anything?"

"Not yet." Doc took another drink, and grinned at him. "But I will."

* * *

**A/N: So, now we have all the girls together. I think we need to have them do some stuff.**

**Next time: Belle's mother has a plan...**


	8. The Appetiser

**A/N: Can I just say how much I loved 4x06? Anyway, moving on… Everyone seems to be pleased that girls' night is up and running. Unfortunately the nights won't be booze-fuelled until they can legally buy said booze (barring the girls filching something from behind the bar, which I'm totally not ruling out), but that won't stop the suggestive comments of our darling Ruby (I would be appalled if it did).**

**Kiri Huo Ziv, AbbieWood, RaFire, orthankg1, MyraValhallah, deweymay, NaraTemariS2, crazykat77, Erik'sTrueAngel, jewel415, NeverIsTheEternal, thecadencerose, AquaJasmine23, Twyla Mercedes, JosephineM: thank you for all your comments and prompts. There is a little smutty interlude in this chapter.**

* * *

Gold's eyes were grainy on the Tuesday morning; he had not slept well since Saturday and had needed two cups of coffee before he started to feel in any way human. Belle was proving to be a delightful distraction from rest, and he had spent much of the previous night lying in the dark with his arms behind his head, thinking about how he might help her remember who she was. He had decided to walk to the office, as the day was sunny and warm, and got there later than usual, just as Mrs Potts was bustling up the street. She eyed him shrewdly over the top of her glasses.

"You're late," she observed. "What's the matter, you look awful? Trouble sleeping?"

He shrugged. "A little. Are you the first?"

She rolled her eyes. "You should know by now that the only person to turn up before me is you. I think we can safely assume we're the first." She unlocked the front door as if to prove her point, looking over her shoulder at him. "Did Belle get home alright?"

"No, dearie, I kidnapped her and locked her in my dungeon," he said sarcastically. "I suppose I really ought to take her something to eat."

Mrs Potts gave him a stern look. "Don't you 'dearie' me! I wouldn't be in the least bit surprised if you had a dungeon."

He smirked. "Best make sure you never wind up there, then."

She sniffed at him. "Well, as long as it's clean…"

They entered the offices, Mrs Potts hurrying to turn off the alarm, and Gold followed her in, looking around. The hair on the back of his neck rose, and he put a hand on her arm as she passed by him to get to her desk.

"Someone's been in here," he said quietly, and she gave him a quizzical look.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

He walked around slowly, a prickle under his skin, but could see nothing out of place. He strode purposefully down the corridor to his office, unlocking the door and barging inside, his body tense and waiting. No one. Eyes scanning to left and right, he stood in the centre of the room, turning slowly on his heels. He could see nothing out of place, but he could _feel_ that someone had been there. Footsteps in the corridor pulled his head around as Mrs Potts bustled into the room.

"Someone's been in here," he repeated, and she shrugged.

"Nothing's been disturbed," she pointed out. "Check the security cameras if you like, but I think you're being paranoid."

He took her advice, going to the small room that housed the security system and computer servers. He frowned as he flicked switches and played the recording of the previous night over. A quick fast forward showed nothing untoward on the recording, and Gold frowned.

"It feels as though someone's been here," he insisted, and Mrs Potts sighed.

"I don't have time to sit here and watch the whole thing," she said. "Why don't you check your office? If something's missing, you'll know. If it isn't…" She shrugged as if to say that she thought he was a crazy person, and left the room. Gold drummed his fingertips on the table thoughtfully, and left for his own rooms. He could find nothing out of place, but looking through the cabinets he could sense the presence of someone else, someone who was not welcome. He could almost sense that another's fingers had been rifling through his files, and sat back, his mouth twisted with displeasure. He resolved to change the security codes that day. Closing the cabinets, he pulled out his chair, and prepared for another day of drawing up contracts and making deals.

* * *

The next few weeks passed in something of a blur for Belle. School ended, the summer vacation began, and Gold asked her if she wanted to spend more time at the shop. He stopped working out of his offices in Boston Wednesday through Friday and instead had Mrs Potts send work to him at the shop, which he carried out in between serving the odd customer, collecting rent and overseeing Belle's work on the documents. He had offered her a job working in the shop on the days he was there for the whole of the summer, and once her parents had agreed she accepted readily. Ruby and the other girls were overjoyed; Emma had fitted seamlessly into their little group now that she and Snow were roommates, and their Friday nights together were a regular feature.

Belle was delighted at the idea of spending more time with her friends, making more money (most of which was piling up in her savings account ready for college) and spending the majority of her days with Mr Gold. It didn't help her growing obsession with the man, of course, but that was another story. She was progressing well in her translations, and was gaining confidence in her ability with runes and Latin. Doc was a frequent visitor to Gold's house on the Saturday nights when they ate there rather than going out to a restaurant, and Belle had been pressing him to teach her more each time she saw him. She also delighted in the items Gold would acquire from those wishing to pawn trinkets, or simply from his dealings in antiques. One item in particular captured her interest when he brought it to the shop one Thursday morning.

Belle had arrived at the pawnshop on the dot of eight-thirty as usual, carrying two coffees and a pastry for Gold. She was aware that if she didn't feed him he would be unlikely to eat breakfast at all, and she had fallen into the habit of taking him something sweet each morning. She found the shop closed, much to her surprise, and looked around curiously to see if she could see him. A truck pulled up on the street beside her, and Belle watched as Dover unfurled himself from the driver's seat and gave her a slight bow and a shy smile. She clutched the coffees to her chest as the big man opened up the back of the truck to reveal a rounded object draped in sacking.

"I think you'll like this." Gold's voice close by her ear made her jump, and she turned to face him, letting him take his coffee from her. He had unlocked the shop door and was watching Dover and another short bearded man whom Belle recognised as Leroy. The two men were unloading the object covered in sacking from the back of the truck to take it into the shop. The difference in their heights made picking up the thing somewhat difficult, and resulted in a fair amount of swearing from Leroy, but eventually they got it into the shop and carried it through to the back room.

"What is it?" asked Belle curiously, following Gold in. He thanked Dover and Leroy, and counted off some money from a roll in his pocket, which Leroy pocketed with curt thanks. Gold turned to Belle with a grin on his face, put down his coffee and pulled off the sacking. Belle's eyes widened.

"A spinning wheel!" she exclaimed. "Where did you get it? Is it for sale?"

"No, it's mine." He laid a possessive hand on the curve of the wheel. "I kept it in one of the spare rooms at my offices. Did you never see it?"

"No." Belle ran her eyes over it. "Why did you keep it there? I thought it would fit in at your house more."

"Oh, I have another, in my basement," he said, his fingers gently running over the wheel. "I thought it was time to move this one to the shop. What do you think?"

"It's amazing." Belle reached out hesitantly to touch the smooth wood, and he smiled at her.

"Would you like to see it working?"

Her eyes widened. "You can _spin_?"

"Indeed. Take a seat, Miss French." He gestured to one of the chairs, and Belle perched on the edge with her coffee cradled in her hands, watching him as he took off his jacket and sat down at the wheel. She could see thread spooling from it, and watched avidly as he fed wool into it, the wheel turning slowly and rhythmically to produce fine thread, curling down into a small bowl at his feet. His face became oddly calm, his initial look of concentration morphing into peacefulness. The light shone on his features, highlighting his cheekbones and the hints of silver at his temples, and Belle felt something tickle the back of her mind, like a forgotten memory. He turned his head towards her, dark eyes gleaming, and she swallowed hard. She felt a sudden desire to burst into tears, and he gave her a look of concern as her lip wobbled.

"Are you alright?" he asked, and Belle nodded, standing up and busying herself with setting the coffee cups on the workbench, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

"Fine. I'm fine." She turned to face him, and saw that he had stopped spinning, his fingers poised on the edge of the wheel as he watched her. "Do you spin often?" she asked, and he smiled.

"From time to time. When I need to calm myself. It was very helpful when I gave up smoking. It helps me to empty my mind of negative thoughts."

Belle nodded slowly. "To lose yourself. I understand."

He sat back then. "So, if you come in here and find me sitting at the wheel, don't be alarmed."

"I won't be." She was still trying to shake the odd sense of _déjà vu_. Gold stood up, reaching for his coffee.

"Now, why don't you show me how far you got with that translation I gave you last week?" he suggested, and Belle nodded, relieved that the change of subject would take her mind off her confusing thoughts.

"My rune work is getting better, but there's still so much I don't know," she admitted, pulling out her laptop. "I managed to translate most of that engraving you found; it's weird, it goes on about a place of sanctuary and a moment later it talks about something being killed. Look." She opened up the computer and drank her coffee while she waited for it to boot up. Gold leaned back against the workbench to the side of her, his hip almost touching hers. She bent over the keyboard, her dark curls brushing the bench as she concentrated on opening up the relevant document.

"Here," she pointed, indicating a series of thick slashes on the picture of the engraving. "That means that it – wherever this place is – was considered a place of safety, a sanctuary. But see this." She pointed at another line of runes. "This talks about death. It says something about death coming to…I'm not sure, that's where my knowledge gets kind of hazy. There's something else, too. I'm pretty sure these runes here mean magic. We're back to spells again." She flicked her gaze to his, expecting him to be surprised, but he was frowning in concentration as he stared at the screen.

"That's very interesting," he said quietly. "Can you make out anything else?"

Belle pulled a face. "Not sure. I think this inscription here is talking about a temple, but I really couldn't say for certain. I should get Doc to take a look." She sighed. "You know, you should probably get him to translate all these documents for you. It would be much quicker."

"Hmm." He looked amused. "But then I wouldn't have the pleasure of your company." He grinned at her, and she felt absurdly pleased by his compliment.

"Plus, he's rather expensive," he added. "He'll give the occasional translation in return for decent food and wine, but anything more than that would cost me far more than I pay you."

Belle chuckled. "Well, I'm glad everyone's getting something out of it, then," she observed, and his grin widened.

"You should know by now that I only ever make deals that benefit me," he said, and she shot him a flat look.

"Do you want to read this or do you want to stand around congratulating yourself?" she asked dryly, and he smirked, bending to read through her notes.

"This mentions Dark Hollow again," noted Belle, pointing at a set of runes. "I wish I knew what that was. It is a place, do you think, or just a description?"

"I think perhaps it's a place," said Gold vaguely. "It would be good to know, wouldn't it?"

He was engrossed in her translation, his shoulder pressed up against hers as they bent over the laptop, and his index finger slowly wound a curl of her hair around itself as he read. Belle held her breath, absolutely certain that he didn't realise he was doing it and not wanting to make him aware. His closeness was making her skin strangely tight, her breathing quickening, and she could feel her heart thumping as he leaned in a little closer to read what she had written.

"Well, when you know more, I'd be delighted to read it," he said eventually, pulling away, and looking somewhat surprised as he noticed her hair wrapped around his finger. "Ah – forgive me, Belle. A habit. My hands seem to have a life of their own since I stopped smoking."

Belle secretly wished that his hands would grope her a little more, but she simply blushed and took a step back from him, burying her nose in her coffee cup.

* * *

Monday evening found Belle having dinner with her parents, on one of the few nights she was at home and not in Storybrooke. She cut a piece from the side of her steak, dipping it in the meat juices and popping it into her mouth. Her father was eating enthusiastically across from her; her mother, at the head of the table, was taking a sip of wine and watching Belle with a calculating look that Belle didn't entirely trust. She chewed slowly, waiting for the inevitable question and wondering what it was that was going through her mother's mind. Jeanette put down her glass and rested her elbows on the table, threading her fingers together.

"How is your job going, darling?" she asked carelessly, and Belle shared a brief, curious look with her father.

"Fine," she said cautiously, drawing out the word. "It's interesting. Mr Gold introduced me to Professor Short – he's a world famous expert in ancient languages and he's teaching me to read runes." She took a mouthful of water, eyeing her mother, who nodded slowly.

"What's he like?" she asked, picking up her fork and stabbing a small piece of her steak. "Mr Gold."

"He's nice." Belle cut another piece of steak, pushing it around her plate as she gathered her thoughts. Her mother never asked questions simply to pass the time of day, after all. "He's kind to me. He's teaching me how to keep records for the shop, and the translations he gives me are really interesting. My understanding of Latin has really improved since…"

"You went to his house, didn't you?" interrupted Jeanette. "Is it nice?"

"It's lovely," said Belle honestly. "It's an old Victorian place outside Storybrooke, full of antiques."

"Oh, he's a dealer on the side, isn't he?" interjected her father, scooping up fried onions as he looked at her.

"Yes, he runs the pawnshop and sells antiques, but I get the impression it's kind of a hobby for him," sad Belle, poking at a piece of tomato. "I think he relies on his properties and his legal work."

"He has a lot of properties, then?" prompted Jeanette, gesturing with her fork.

"I – guess…" said Belle slowly, quirking an eyebrow at Maurice, who shrugged.

"And what's his wife like?" asked her mother, smiling widely.

Belle's eyes narrowed. "He's not married," she said, suddenly suspicious. Jeanette pursed her lips, nodding slowly. She sat back, dabbing at her lips with a napkin.

"I think we should invite him for dinner," she announced.

"Why?" Belle was _really _suspicious now. "What are you plotting?"

"_Plotting?_ Oh, Belle!" Jeanette chuckled. "You make me sound like Lady Macbeth! I just thought I ought to meet this man that my husband and daughter are spending so much time with." She looked at Maurice expectantly, and he shrugged.

"I could ask him to come tomorrow, I suppose, love," he offered, and she smiled.

"I'll make something nice," she said, pushing her chair back and standing up.

Belle shared a look with her father as Jeanette sauntered through to the kitchen, but she could tell that he was just as perplexed as she.

* * *

It was a Tuesday, so Belle hadn't seen Gold since her mother had extended her invitation to dinner. He had accepted, she knew that much, and she made her way home from the library wondering how the evening would play out. Her mother was up to something, she could tell, but she hadn't worked out what that was. She had a sinking feeling that she was going to get to know him, then try to set him up with one of her obnoxious grasping friends. Belle felt by turns embarrassed for her mother's interference, and anguished that Gold might, in fact, be interested. She knew next to nothing about him personally, after all, only that he was kind to her, when everyone else walked carefully around him, and that he seemed to have no woman in his life. That meant nothing, of course, she told herself firmly. He could be gay (although she doubted it), getting over some bad break-up, or simply not interested. Either way, she suspected that her mother's gesture would not be appreciated.

She found the house empty when she returned home, and made her way up to her room, dropping her bag of books on her desk with a sigh and shrugging off her jacket. She had spent some time in the library researching, and it was nearing five. She wanted to go over some of the translations she had done; her feet hurt, however, and she was tired, so she threw herself down on the bed with a sigh, putting her hands behind her head and allowing herself to rest for a moment. Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift to him, as she so often did. He fascinated her, his small, lithe frame and his dark eyes and his wicked little smile that he only seemed to show her. She felt the familiar tug of desire in her belly at the thought of him, and put her hands over it to quell the sensation, her warm fingers caressing that inner part of her that yearned for him, that ached for him. She wished there was a way to put him from her mind, but in the absence of some sort of temporary amnesia, she'd settle for dealing with her rising desire…

Her phone rang then, and she rolled off the bed and crossed to the dresser, picking it up.

"Hello?" she said.

"Good evening, Miss French." His accent flowed over her like warm honey, his voice low and purring, and she immediately felt her stomach clench painfully and her breath quicken.

"Mr Gold," she said, a little breathlessly. "W – what can I do for you?"

"I was thinking that there might be something I could do for you," he said, and she swallowed hard.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you in your bedroom?" he asked, and she nodded, before realising that he couldn't see her. Her mouth was dry.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Good. Go and lie down on the bed."

Heart thumping, she obeyed, pulling her legs up and lying back against the pillows once more.

"I'm here," she whispered, and heard him breathing on the other end of the phone.

"Touch your mouth," he whispered. "Those beautiful, full lips of yours, Belle. Take the tips of your fingers and touch them for me, sweetheart. Imagine it's me touching you."

She complied, letting her fingertips feel the softness of her lips, the slight stickiness of her lipgloss. She traced their outline, feeling her lips part, and touched her fingers with the tip of her tongue, imagining how he might taste, if he were to kiss her. Her breathing had quickened, her cheeks starting to flush.

"Run your fingers down to your chest," he purred, and she obeyed, letting her hand slip slowly down her throat and onto her sternum. She could feel the thump of her heart as she let her fingertips rest, poised on her chest.

"Unbutton your blouse," he said then, and she let her hands drop to the buttons, slowly pulling them undone.

"Now, slide your hand inside your bra," he whispered. "Feel how beautiful you are, Belle."

She cupped the firm warmth of her breast, her thumb and forefinger gently plucking at her nipple and sending tiny shocks down through her body as she thought about his hands there, squeezing. She gasped, and he let out a deep, dark chuckle.

"I want to kiss you there," he breathed. "I want to put my mouth on you and suck at your nipples and kiss your sweet skin. I want to run my lips down your body and make you writhe beneath me, do you hear me?"

Belle moaned, her hips wriggling as she searched for friction between her thighs.

"Do you want me?" His voice was rough. "Do you want me as I want you, little Belle?"

"Yes!" she gasped, pinching at her nipple. Her belly was tightening, her breath coming almost in pants.

"Lift your skirt," he rasped. "Put your fingers where you want me, my sweet."

Biting her lip, she snaked her hand down, tugging her skirt up and sliding in beneath her underwear. Her fingers touched soft folds and dark curls, slick with her juices.

"Are you wet, my Belle?" he asked, his voice a low purr, and she gasped as she touched her most sensitive parts.

"Yes!" she whispered, and he seemed to groan at her.

"Imagine I'm there with you," he said, his voice lilting, mesmerising. "Imagine I'm lying between your legs and my tongue is about to touch you there. _Feel _it, Belle. Feel me lick you."

Belle began to move her fingers in slow circles, moaning softly as she rubbed around her swollen clit, the wetness of her arousal intensifying the feeling. She imagined him there, his hair brushing her inner thighs, the scrape of new stubble against her tender skin. She imagined his hands pushing her legs further apart so that he could get closer, sliding a finger inside her. She slipped her forefinger inside, lifting her hips as the knuckle of her thumb grazed her clit.

"Put another finger inside yourself, Belle," he whispered. "And another. Three fingers. Imagine me there, pushing into you."

Belle slipped a second and third finger inside, her breath coming in pants, a feeling of bliss rising up through her and threatening to burst out as she pumped her hand, her fingers sliding rhythmically against her tender flesh. She imagined him lying on top of her, pinning her to the bed, his hair hanging in her face, his hands cupping her breasts as he thrust deep inside her. She thought of his lips on her throat, the gentle nip of his teeth on her soft skin, the scent of him covering her, and she came with a soft cry, gasping and writhing, her entire body throbbing with need.

She fell back onto the covers, trying to catch her breath, her cheeks flushed and sweat beading at her brow as the bubble of her fantasy burst and his voice disappeared from her head. It was a release, to be sure, but it was somehow unsatisfying. A brief, delicious dream of his voice and his touch was a poor imitation of what she believed the real thing would be like. She bit her lip with a groan when she remembered that he was coming to dinner. An entire evening of him sitting across from her and flicking his hair out of his face. Hours of him touching her hand when he passed her something. She wasn't sure she could get through it without doing something stupid.

She could hear the murmur of voices in the hallway, the front door shutting. Her father, she presumed. Her parents returned for the evening, Mr Gold due at seven, and here she was lying on the bed with her skirt up around her waist and her fingers coated in her own fluids. Time for a shower. Breathing a little easier, Belle got up off the bed, peeled off her clothes, and pulled on her robe. Perhaps a _cold_ shower was appropriate.

She wrenched open the door to her room, not really looking where she was going, and the breath _whooshed _from her lungs as she cannoned into someone. Her head fell back and she gasped as her eyes met his. They stood motionless, frozen in place, seemingly unable to move apart. Gold's hands were on her waist, her own hands pressed against his lapels, and her heart began to thump as she watched his pupils blow wide open and his nostrils flare. Dark fire blazed in his eyes.

"Belle!" he said hoarsely, and the sound of his own voice seemed to break whatever spell had fallen over them. Her mouth dropped open in horror as she wondered whether he could smell the scent of her arousal on her fingers, and she hurriedly snatched her hands down to her sides, her face crimson.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I was just – I need to take a shower!"

She stumbled past him to the bathroom, wishing for the first time, but with all her heart, that she'd followed her mother's advice and used the extra space in her bedroom for an_ en suite_, rather than for bookcases. She slammed the bathroom door behind her, leaning back against it and wanting to die. A soft tapping made her jump away from it.

"Belle?" His voice was soft, and she buried her head in her hands. This had to be the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to her. _Could have been worse,_ her mind prompted. _Your door wasn't locked. He could have walked in on you doing it._

She squirmed with discomfort at the very thought.

"Belle, I'm sorry if I startled you," he went on. "Your father had some papers he wanted to give me, so he suggested I come by a little earlier than planned."

_Of course he did. Thanks Dad. _She sighed aloud.

"It's okay," she called. "I'm just taking a shower. Tell Dad I'll be down in half an hour." Her brain managed to supply the probable reason he was up there in the first place. "There's another bathroom next door, if that's what you're looking for."

"Thank you." She heard his footfalls move away from her, the sound of a door opening and closing, and she turned on the shower with a sigh, dropping her robe. Perhaps if she tried hard enough she could drown herself.

* * *

Belle spent as long getting ready as she dared, only surfacing from her room when her mother had called her three times, the last with something of an edge in her voice. She went down the stairs with a flush still high on her cheeks, and stopped as she entered the dining room. Gold was sitting there, at her mother's right hand, and next to him was a slim woman around her mother's age, blonde hair elaborately curled and styled above beautiful, if slightly vulpine features. The woman was wearing a green dress with a plunging neckline and a gold and emerald necklace, long earrings dangling from her ears.

"Hello Belle," the woman said sweetly. "Jeanette, I had no idea she was becoming such a beauty! I bet you have the boys beating a path to your door, don't you honey?"

"She doesn't seem that interested." Belle's mother motioned to Maurice to pour wine for the four adults. "I keep telling her that the romances she finds in books are all very well, but they won't help her find a nice boy. She needs to get out there and date more."

"Hello Clarissa." Belle ignored her mother's comments. She slid into her seat across from Clarissa Shelby, finding it a little difficult to meet Gold's eyes. He was looking very good; his shirt and tie were black beneath his charcoal-grey suit, but he did look rather surprised to find himself sitting there. He smiled at her.

"You're looking very well, Miss French," he said, and Belle greeted him shyly as she took her place. The first course was already on the table, a clear soup with tiny prawn dumplings floating in it, and she busied herself with her spoon as her mother opened the conversation.

"Clarissa runs her own party-planning business," she informed Gold, as if he was interested. "She runs the most _fabulous_ parties, don't you dear? Tell Mr Gold about that birthday you did for the DA's wife."

Clarissa launched into an explanation of the party at the country club, the food that had been served and the theme of a masked ball, the opulence of the decorations. Belle had to admit it sounded fabulous, but she wasn't one for big parties, and she suspected Gold wasn't either. She ate her soup quietly, occasionally sharing an amused look with her father. Gold was making polite noises, but it was clear that he would rather be anywhere else but where he was right now. She was oddly pleased about that.

When the first course had been cleared away and the main was served – rack of lamb with fondant potatoes and redcurrant and rosemary sauce – her mother turned the conversation around to Mr Gold.

"You own a lot of property in Storybrooke, I understand," she prompted.

"Indeed. I am the landlord for most of its inhabitants," he said a little stiffly.

"Collecting all that rent must be a lot of work," observed Clarissa, a predatory gleam in her eyes. Belle concentrated on her lamb, watching Gold closely.

"Perhaps, Ms Shelby, but I prefer to do the rounds of my tenants myself," he said. "This lamb is delicious, by the way, Mrs French. You must give me the name of your butchers. Are they based in Boston?"

"Don't you ever want to expand your business into the city?" Clarissa would not be swayed from the topic of conversation. "Real estate here would bring you a higher return, wouldn't it Marcus? You don't mind if I call you Marcus, right?"

Gold's mouth twitched as though he'd just eaten something revolting, and Belle decided to come to his rescue.

"Mr Gold, did you take delivery of those documents you mentioned to me the other day?" she asked, and he shared a brief smile with her, his eyes glinting in the light of the candles.

"I did indeed. I think you'll be very interested. I've managed to track down a book written in the nineteenth century that details some carvings from the area of Avonleigh. I'd like you to take a look this weekend, if you would."

"Belle has been doing some work on translating old documents," explained Maurice, shooting his daughter a fond look. "She's going to find secrets from the past that no one else knows, aren't you sweetheart?"

"Oh?" Clarissa looked uninterested. "History was never my thing, I have to say. Going to the school library was like being buried alive." She laughed. Gold winced.

"Belle tells me that you have a lot of antiques at home," added Jeanette. "You must get lonely, Mr Gold, in that big house all by yourself."

"Not really." He took a sip of wine. "I'm rather used to my own company."

"And Maine winters are so cold," she went on, and he smiled without warmth.

"Fortunately I have an excellent central heating system," he said.

Belle was wondering how much more of this awful dinner she was going to have to sit through, but luckily Clarissa received a call just as the main course was finished. She excused herself to go into the kitchen, and Jeanette followed her in. Belle began clearing the plates, trying not to meet Gold's eyes as she took his, and carried them through to the kitchen.

"I'm sorry honey, I have to go," Clarissa was saying. "Wedding tomorrow morning. I thought I could leave those idiots to set up without me, but the cake hasn't arrived and someone let the doves out early, it's a nightmare!" Belle bit her lip in amusement as she put the plates down.

"Well, I'm sorry you're going," said Jeanette regretfully, and Clarissa made an impatient sound under her breath.

"Nice try, darling, but he's clearly not interested. Pity. Excellent taste in suits." Belle heard the two of them kiss in farewell, and turned to say goodbye. She carried the dessert – raspberry panna cotta – through for the four of them. Gold met her eyes with a smile as she entered the room, looking like a man who had been sentenced to death and had just received a reprieve.

Now that her mother had been thwarted, and he was no longer being served up as an additional dinner course, Gold was more talkative, discussing a recent change to a patent specification that Maurice was having drafted and asking Belle about what she was currently reading. Once dinner was over and he was ready to leave Belle showed him to the door, her earlier humiliation over their meeting on the landing quite forgotten in comparison to the dinner.

"I'm so, so sorry," she said softly, as she fetched his coat. "I had no idea she was planning on setting you up with someone. Not tonight, at least. I should have known better."

"That's quite alright, Miss French," he said easily. "But, should your mother ever raise the topic with you again, you can inform her that my answer will always be no."

"Always?" That seemed a little final, to her, but he nodded.

"Always. When it comes to matters of the heart I find it best to let people choose their own destiny, would you not agree? The consequences can be quite…far-reaching, after all."

"I – guess," she said uncertainly, and he nodded.

"It therefore seems a shame to waste an excellent dinner on me when I have no interest in putting myself on the menu," he added.

Belle bit her lip. "What about _our_ dinners?"

"Ah." He showed his teeth, his eyes softening. "Those are _never_ a waste." He slipped on his coat, inclining his head slightly. "Good night, Belle."

She shut the door after him, feeling strangely uplifted.

* * *

**A/N: I think that's the end of Belle's mother trying to matchmake.**

**Next time: Gold discovers an intruder.**


	9. Notice To Quit

**A/N: Managed to finish this chapter a little earlier than I hoped, so here goes.**

**Guest: your prompt is published in Playing to Win, you naughty thing, you!**

**Twyla Mercedes, Noyade, Kiri Huo Ziv, CharlotteAshmore, AbbieWood, MyraValhallah, RaFire, deweymay, NaraTemariS2, thecadencerose, Erik'sTrueAngel, orthankg1, crazykat77: thank you all for your continued support.**

* * *

Belle was surprised to see Gold waiting in the diner when she came down to breakfast with Ruby that Friday morning, and he gave her a brisk nod, his eyes scanning the patrons. She was about to speak to him, but Ruby plucked at her sleeve.

"He's waiting for someone," she said quietly. "I know that look. I'm guessing someone's late with their rent. D'you want eggs or pancakes?"

"Oh – eggs, please." Belle seated herself at the bar, and smiled up at Granny as she was handed a coffee. She kept sneaking looks at Gold over her shoulder. He hadn't taken a seat, but was standing erect and still, his fingers laced together over his cane. The diners were shooting him nervous looks. Belle sipped her coffee, and waited. Ruby slid onto the stool next to her, carrying plates of eggs and toast for the both of them.

"I bet it's Tom," she said, in a whisper. "He's always late with his rent."

"Leroy's friend?" whispered Belle in return. "Doesn't Leroy work for Mr Gold from time to time?"

Ruby snorted derisively. "Yeah, and so does Tom, on occasion. You think something like _that_ would stop him chewing the guy out? As far as Gold's concerned, there are no breaks. You get what you contract for, no more, no less." She wagged a finger at Belle. "You better remember that, honey. Never try to cheat him, or he'll make you pay ten times over."

"I wasn't planning on it," said Belle. She sipped her coffee and dug her fork into the eggs. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gold suddenly move, his face darkening. Sure enough, the door to the diner opened, and Leroy and Tom Clark ambled in, in the middle of a conversation about football. Tom paused in the act of blowing his nose when he noticed who was waiting for him, handkerchief bunched in his hand. The diner had grown ominously silent.

"Ah, Mr Clark," said Gold pleasantly. "As I haven't been able to cross paths with you this past week, I thought I'd save you the trouble of coming to my shop with the money you owe me. You're two weeks late, dearie."

Tom's throat jumped, and he exchanged a panicked look with Leroy.

"Look, he's a bit short this month," interjected Leroy. "You gotta give him some time."

"I don't _have_ to do any such thing," said Gold dismissively, looking at his fingernails. "Your rent, Mr Clark, if you please."

"I – don't have it," faltered Tom, looking pale, and sounding extremely nasal. Belle's heart went out to him. Gold sighed, looking at the floor.

"You are aware of the terms of our agreement, are you not, Mr Clark?" he said. "You are aware that I provide a clean and well-maintained apartment for you, and in return you give me a set sum each month?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," admitted Tom. "But…"

"And you are also aware that, should payment of said rent ever be late, I am entitled to charge you penalties and interest on the outstanding amount?"

"Yes," said Tom awkwardly, looking around the diners as though they might help him out. "But…"

"And that if you fail to pay your rent and the charges for more than one week, on more than four occasions, I am within my rights under our contract to issue a 7-Day Quit Notice and evict you, yes?"

Tom looked alarmed. "Hey, I don't remember agreeing to that!"

"You mean you didn't read it," sneered Gold. "Hardly my problem, Mr Clark. I assure you if you check your rental agreement you will find the necessary provisions are all quite clear."

"Hey, you can't throw him out!" objected Leroy, and Gold turned cold eyes upon him.

"Oh, really? And your basis for this statement is...?"

Leroy opened and closed his mouth. "It's not fair," he said eventually. "Tom's been ill, he's had to get help in to run the pharmacy, he hasn't had as much money coming in…"

"Yes, yes, no doubt he has a well-crafted and utterly uninteresting excuse for non-payment, but the plain fact is that I don't care," said Gold, in a bored voice. "I'll have my money, Mr Clark. I would have had it last night, had you answered the door to me in a civilised fashion. You chose to cower behind your sofa, however, so I have had to resort to the undignified spectacle of confronting you at breakfast."

"I…" sputtered Tom desperately. "I…"

Gold gave him a thin smile. "I see." He reached into his pocket, and withdrew a piece of paper, neatly folded into thirds. "Your 7-Day Notice to Quit. Have your things out by next Friday."

He stalked past them, not even glancing at the others, and slipped from the diner. Belle shared a horrified look with Ruby. Tom was clutching at Leroy's shoulder, his eyes a little wild. A violent sneeze made him bend double, and he straightened up again, wiping his eyes and nose with the handkerchief.

"Surely he doesn't mean it?" Belle objected. "He can't just throw him out on the street!"

"He can and he will," said Ruby despondently. "Tom's screwed if he doesn't get the money." She shovelled eggs into her mouth, gesturing with her fork as she swallowed. "Sorry, honey, I know you say he's kind to you, but _that_, right there, is the Gold we all know. He'll be like that with you, too, take my word for it."

A murmur of conversation had started up in the diner again, and Tom and Leroy were engaged in a heated, whispered conversation. Belle had lost her appetite. She slipped from her stool, gave Ruby a farewell hug and made her way to the pawn shop. She was a little nervous as she opened the door, unsure how Gold would react to her given his current mood, but he smiled as she entered.

"Belle," he said, as if he hadn't just threatened to evict a man from his apartment in front of a bunch of his friends. "You're early. You can get started, if you like."

Just then the door behind Belle opened roughly, the bell jumping and tinkling as Leroy stalked into the shop. Looking out of the window, Belle could see Tom hovering outside, looking decidedly worried.

"Gold, you've got some nerve threatening Tom in the diner!" Leroy spat, striding towards the counter.

"Really?" said Gold dispassionately, writing _7-Day Notice to Quit _against Tom Clark's name in his ledger. "He's late with his rent. Again. I don't make the rules; it's all there in the contract."

"Yeah, that _you _wrote," said Leroy, in a surly tone. Gold pulled a face.

"Your point being?"

"Look, he wants to work something out," said Leroy, leaning on the counter. Gold frowned, straightening up.

"Then why doesn't he come into the shop, instead of lurking in the street like a beggar?" he snapped.

"I though everyone was a beggar when dealing with you," sneered Leroy.

"On the contrary, everyone gets exactly what they asked for," said Gold coolly. "But they then seem greatly surprised when I expect what it is _I _contracted for. Rather hypocritical, wouldn't you say?"

Leroy sighed. "Look, you're a rich guy, you can afford to let it slide for a few weeks."

"You're right, I could," said Gold unexpectedly.

"Great…"

"But I won't," he added, and Leroy scowled.

"Come on, Mr Gold, there must be some way around this."

"There is," said Gold abruptly, reaching for a red pen. "Tell your friend to bring the money he owes me, plus twenty per cent interest, plus the penalty of fifty dollars." He showed his teeth. "That will wipe the slate entirely clean. This time."

"You know he doesn't have that," said Leroy sternly. Gold smirked at him, then drew a thin red line through Tom Clark's name.

"Then that would appear to be that," he said silkily.

"Wait," interrupted Belle. "What if he pays you the rent and all the extras this time next week?"

Gold transferred his cold gaze to her, making her want to shrink.

"Miss French, I wasn't aware that I employed you as my rent collector," he said. "Kindly stay out of this area of business and get started on what I actually pay you for, if you please."

Belle felt anger flare within her, and she stomped into the back room. She heard Leroy leave not long after, muttering to himself, and sighed. The tap of Gold's cane approached, and she buried her head in the document she was working on, so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"I'm going out for a while," he said. "Would you mind the shop while I'm gone?"

Belle looked up. "Are you going to terrorise any more of the townsfolk today?" she asked sweetly, and he smirked.

"If I'm lucky," he said cheerfully, and turned on his heel. Belle puffed air through her cheeks in frustration. She heard the tinkle of the bell again, and sat up, tapping her pen thoughtfully. Sliding off her stool, she bent down and opened up the cupboards where she knew Gold kept some of his paperwork. She had often seen him store rental agreements in there, and she flicked through a pile of manila folders until she found what she was looking for. She took Tom Clark's rental contract back to the bench with her, sat down and began to read.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, she quickly stowed the contract back in the cupboard, grabbed her jacket, and slipped out of the shop, flipping the sign to Closed and locking the door after her. She had no idea how long Gold was going to be away, so she ran to Granny's as fast as she could in her heels, almost bumping into Emma as she left the diner.

"Whoa, Belle! Where's the fire?" Emma held up a cardboard tray of coffees out of the way of her friend.

"Is Tom still in there?" gasped Belle, and Emma winced.

"Yeah, poor guy. He's trying to scrape together enough cash to pay Gold. Doubt he'll do it by Friday. What a bastard, huh?"

Belle gave her a quick hug, stammering something about not keeping her waiting, and rushed into the diner. She immediately saw Leroy and Tom at the bar.

"I don't know what else to do!" Tom was saying urgently. "If he'd give me a couple of weeks I should be able to get straight with everything, but I'm…" He broke off as another sneeze wracked him. "…still sick. I shouldn't really be back at work." He blew his nose, and Belle took the opportunity to tug at Leroy's sleeve. The solid little man scowled at her.

"Look, tell Gold…" he began, but Belle shook her head, cutting him off.

"Clause 24, paragraph 2," she said, a little breathlessly. "Read the contract."

She turned and slipped out of the door again, running back to the shop, and hoping that they took her advice.

* * *

She was out of breath by the time she got there, and was surprised to find that the door was unlocked. Cursing her luck, and expecting Gold to be waiting for her, she hurriedly tried to think of a plausible lie to explain her disappearance.

"Sorry, I just remembered I had to ask Ruby…" She cut off at the sight of a strange man leaping up from behind the counter. He looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him, but recovered quickly.

"Oh, hey, I was beginning to think no one was here," he said, with a ready smile. He was in his early twenties, Belle thought, perhaps as old as twenty five. He was dressed rather unconventionally, in a fitted velvet jacket and tight black pants above chunky boots. He was also rather good-looking, with very white teeth. Belle thought Emma would like him.

"I just popped out for a second," she said. "Are you here to see Mr Gold? He's out too."

"Oh, that's a pity," said the young man regretfully. He came out from behind the counter towards her, a look of quiet desperation in his eyes. "I was really hoping he could help me. I wanted to pawn this." He held out his hand, and Belle exclaimed over the antique gold watch that sat there.

"It's beautiful!" She ran a finger around the bevelled edge. "It's such a shame you have to pawn it."

"Yes, it's an old family heirloom," he said, sadness in his voice. "But my grandmother's sick. I can't afford to pay for her medicine on what I earn, so…" He shrugged, and Belle bit her lip.

"I'm sorry Mr Gold's out, but if you'd like to wait…" She cut off as he shook his head.

"I should really get back, I don't like leaving her too long. I'll come back later."

The sound of the bell pulled both of their heads around, and Gold strode back into the shop. His eyes darkened.

"Belle, get away from him," he said sharply, and Belle's eyes widened.

"What? Why?"

"Do as I say!" he snapped, which immediately made her balk. She put her fists on her hips, and he held out his hand to her. "Now, please!"

"He's not going to hurt me!" protested Belle. "He's a customer!"

"Customer!" Gold sneered. "He was spotted sneaking around my house yesterday. Dover sent me a picture of him. He's been spying on me, and I want to know why. Now, get away from him this instant, Belle."

Scowling, she stomped over to the counter, away from the young man but nowhere near Gold. The moment she was out of the way of the route to the back door, the man bolted. Belle let out a squeak of surprise as Gold moved quicker than she could have believed. By the time she had rounded the counter there was a commotion from the back room and a yell of pain. She hurriedly pushed the curtain aside and ran in, to reveal the young man on his back with Gold's cane handle pressed against his throat.

"Let him up this minute!" she said, outraged, and to her surprise Gold stepped back. He was breathing heavily through his nose, fury in his eyes, and Belle put what she hoped was a soothing hand on his arm, making him start. Taking a deep breath, he straightened up, grounding his cane between his feet. He beckoned to the man, gesturing to a chair.

"Sit," he said tightly. Sighing, the man obeyed, brushing off the sleeves of his jacket as he sat down.

"What's your name?" asked Gold quietly, and the young man scowled.

"Jefferson," he said, a little sulkily. Gold raised an eyebrow.

"And this is where – forgive me – I require clarification. I never can tell with you Americans. Is Jefferson your first name or your surname?"

"Jefferson Milliner," the man said loudly, and muttered "_asshole"_ under his breath.

"Oh, undoubtedly," said Gold, in agreement. "Now, the question remains, what do I do with you? Do you have any idea how I usually treat intruders?"

"He's not an intruder," said Belle, furious with Gold. "Why do you always have to be so suspicious?"

"Oh yes," sneered Gold, rounding on her. "A handsome face, those big blue eyes, and you're ready to let him lick your hand like a puppy, am I right?"

Belle flushed. "He didn't mean any harm, he just wanted some money…" she began, and Gold raised his eyes to the ceiling in frustration.

"You know, dearie, I'm sure that seeing the best in everyone is considered an admirable trait, but when it comes to those who break and enter then it's ridiculously naïve."

Belle put her fists on her hips, glaring at him. "I am _not _naïve! He's here because he's desperate! His grandmother is very ill, and…" She cut off at Gold's cutting laugh.

"A sick grandmother?" he asked, amused, and bared his teeth at the intruder. "Really? You couldn't think of anything more original?" He jabbed the man in the chest with his cane. "Do you even _have _a grandmother, boy?"

"Yes," said Jefferson sulkily.

"He wants to pawn something," said Belle eagerly, pointing at Jefferson's hands, and the young man looked suddenly shifty. Gold rapped him on the knuckles, and he opened his hands with a yelp of pain, the gold watch falling to the floor. Gold smirked in satisfaction.

"So," he said lightly. "You wish to pawn something that already belongs to me, do you? I'm afraid you don't understand how this works."

Belle's eyes widened, and she shot a look at Jefferson. "But – he said…" she began, and Gold rounded on her.

"He told you that because he wanted you to trust him!" he snapped. "You could have been hurt, you foolish, gullible girl!"

She felt herself swell with rage, his patronising tone on top of his earlier treatment of Tom making her see red.

"Well, I'd rather be a gullible girl than a… than a…" she spluttered, and his eyes narrowed, his hands folding over the handle of his cane.

"Than a what, dearie?" he asked dangerously.

"Than a _bully_!" she blurted. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, flicking up to meet hers.

"Try again," he said quietly, and she seethed, her mouth working.

"Than a bitter, suspicious, condescending _arse_!" she shouted, and whirled on her heel, stomping out of the back room and wrenching open the door of the shop. She stormed out, arms pumping furiously as she marched up the street. Her long hair swished as she marched, her chest heaving with indignation. _Bloody _man!

"Belle!" Ruby's voice made her look around, and she slowed her pace as her friend came running over and folded her into a hug. Ruby pulled back, looking curious.

"What's up? You look as though you're about to spit."

Belle growled something, and Ruby chuckled knowingly.

"What did he do now?" she asked, with a grin, then looked around anxiously. "He's not following you, is he?"

"I highly doubt it," said Belle dryly.

"What, did you knock him over and kick his cane away?" asked Ruby, her eyes full of laughter. "Because people would pay to see that, you know. I could probably sell tickets if you give me advance warning."

Belle couldn't help laughing. "No, nothing like that," she sighed. "He's just so – so…"

She lifted her arms and let them fall, frustration making her suddenly inarticulate.

"So, tie him up and spank him," suggested Ruby. "The pervert would probably enjoy it."

"Rubes…" whined Belle, and her friend nodded sagely.

"You're right. I reckon he'd prefer to spank _you_…"

"Seriously, Ruby, do you _have _to?" Belle put her head in her hands, trying to dispel the imagery, and Ruby chuckled and hugged her again.

"Relax, I'm kidding. Sorry for the mind-fuck that vision must have caused. Come and have a drink, cool your head."

"I'll cool his arse!" snapped Belle.

"That's the spirit, honey." Ruby linked her arm through Belle's and steered her towards the diner.

* * *

Gold heard Jefferson chuckle softly behind him as Belle slammed the door, the noise echoing through the shop.

"Man, you are so screwed!" said the man cheerfully. "That is one young lady who is seriously done with your shit."

Gold closed his eyes momentarily. "I beg your pardon?" he said, in a freezing voice, and Jefferson shrugged.

"Just saying. I mean, the girl likes you, it's pretty obvious, but she doesn't hold back from a slap-down, huh?" He grinned suddenly. "Seriously, have you two ever considered just getting a room?"

Gold turned on the balls of his feet, the glare on his face making Jefferson shrink back slightly in his chair.

"Sorry I asked," he muttered.

"Miss French is my assistant," said Gold acerbically, and Jefferson snorted softly.

"Okay, man, whatever you say." He put his head to the side. "Look, are you gonna let me go, or not?"

"And why shouldn't I just hand you over to the police?" asked Gold mildly.

"Because – you don't like the police," said Jefferson intuitively. "Let's face it, you don't want them poking around here any more than you want me."

"No doubt they'd steal less," said Gold, and Jefferson scowled.

"I've stolen nothing! The watch was a cover story, that's all, I'm not a thief! I just wanted…" He clamped his mouth shut, and Gold smiled nastily.

"And now we come to it," he said quietly. "Why exactly are you here, dearie? Why were you at my house?"

The man watched him cautiously, keeping his mouth closed.

"A guessing game, is it? Very well." Gold took a step towards him, beginning to pace slowly around the chair, so that Jefferson had to turn his head at awkward angles to keep him in view. Gold was well aware of how unnerving it was for the young man, particularly when he stepped behind him, out of his line of sight.

"You haven't broken in here on a whim," he said, when he could see that Jefferson's breath had quickened slightly with nervousness. "Which means you have a purpose. And if you're not here to steal, I would guess you're after information on me. I can think of a number of people who would pay you for information on me, but only one that I've crossed paths with recently." He stepped around to the front of the chair again, and noticed that Jefferson was looking wary. Gold smiled.

"Regina hired you," he said simply, and almost laughed at the way the young man's eyes widened. "By the way, you might want to control that," he added, waving a finger at him. "Your face gives too much away for you to make a career out of lying and sneaking around."

Jefferson looked mutinous. "I happen to be very good at what I do," he said sulkily, and Gold chuckled.

"Well, if what you do is getting captured by your intended victim, I'd have to agree with you," he said dismissively, turning away. "Now, if you would…"

"It's not the first time I've been in here," interrupted Jefferson, and Gold turned slowly around on his heel.

"What?" he asked softly, and the man shrugged.

"I've been spying on you for weeks," he said, with a touch of pride. "You never knew I was there. I know your pretty little 'assistant' comes to work for you in Boston on Mondays and Thursdays. I know you bring her to Storybrooke when she's not there." He swung back in his chair with his arms behind his head, long legs stretched in front of him, suddenly looking smug. "I know you're in love with her."

Gold lashed out with his good leg, catching the edge of the chair with his foot and shoving at it. Jefferson let out a somewhat unmanly shriek as he toppled backwards, legs in the air.

"You were saying?" said Gold mildly, and tried not to smirk as Jefferson scrambled to his feet and dusted himself down with a scowl. Gold eyed him, thinking. If the man really had been following him for weeks without him knowing, then he was good. Very good. Had his suspicions not been aroused in his office, he would never have asked Dover to keep a watch on his house, and would not have known who Jefferson was.

"How much is Regina paying you?" he asked suddenly, and Jefferson looked even warier.

"Five grand," he said suspiciously. "For the moment."

"And what have you reported back to her, may I ask?"

Jefferson sighed, pulling a face. "Nothing," he admitted. "There's nothing to tell, right? She was hoping you'd bang the girl, but as far as I can see you're a model citizen in that respect."

Gold drummed his fingers on the handle of his cane.

"Give her the money back," he said. "You can work for me instead. I'll pay you triple."

Jefferson perked up, but still looked suspicious.

"Doing what?" he asked, and Gold shrugged.

"Bringing me information, of course," he said. "I'll give you specific assignments from time to time, but other than that I want you to bring me whatever you find on the residents of this town. Without them knowing, naturally."

"Naturally," echoed Jefferson.

"And one more thing, dearie." Gold fixed Jefferson with a dark stare. "Once I buy your services, you stay bought. Understand? I don't react well to – disloyalty." He hissed the last word, his gold tooth gleaming, and Jefferson paled slightly, swallowing hard.

"And Ms Mills?" he asked

Gold sighed. "Tell Regina that I would never be stupid enough to do anything that would give her power over me," he said wearily. "Tell her to keep the bloody money and make something of herself. And tell her that if she wants to stay in Storybrooke, the offer of an apartment still stands. For a price, of course."

Jefferson winced. "Yeah, I think this might be a conversation to have by phone rather than face-to-face," he said. Gold shot him a look.

"How much of the money have you spent?" he asked, and Jefferson pulled a face.

"Half," he admitted, and Gold rolled his eyes.

"I'll make up the shortfall, since I'm stealing you from her," he said. "Do we have a deal?"

Jefferson looked at him for a long time, then held out his hand. "Deal."

* * *

Belle calmed down over an iced tea with Ruby, and was a little ashamed of herself for losing her temper. She was not used to shouting at people, and now that her ire had cooled she was mortified by the fact that she had yelled at her employer.

"What if he fires me?" she asked Ruby worriedly.

"He won't fire you," said Ruby, with certainty. "Seems to me like you're the only person in this town he can stand to be around." She took a drink. "For sure you're the only person who can stand to be around him."

Belle sighed. "I suppose I'd better apologise. I hope he hasn't hurt that young man."

"Call Emma, have her get someone to arrest his skinny ass," offered Ruby, and Belle chuckled, draining her glass. Ruby dove to the side and snatched up a paper bag, dropping in two bear claws from the glass cake stand on top of the bar.

"Take him a peace offering," she suggested, and Belle took the bag with a grateful smile.

Gold was alone in the shop when she returned, and he watched her in silence, hands poised on the counter. She held up the bag with a tremulous smile.

"Sorry," she said, and he gave her the ghost of a smirk.

"Apology accepted, Miss French."

She approached the counter, setting down the paper bag and tearing it open so that they could each take a bear claw. Gold took a bite, setting it down again and licking sugar from his fingertips, making her insides squirm.

"So – um – who was that?" she asked nervously, and he straightened up with a broad grin.

"Oh, you mean the young man with the non-existent sick grandmother who wanted to palm his old family heirloom to help cure her? Well, it turns out that he's been spying on the two of us for weeks, that he broke into my offices, this shop, and my home, and that he was selling information on me to Ms Mills." He took another bite, and Belle felt suddenly awful.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, and looked up. "What – what did you do to him?" She was almost afraid of the answer, but Gold simply shrugged.

"Poached him, of course. He works for me, now."

"Oh." She hadn't been expecting that, and he patted her hand.

"Worry not, Miss French, you only learn to read people when you get to be a bitter, suspicious and condescending arse, so no danger of that happening to you, is there?" He was grinning at her, enjoying her discomfort, and she stuck out her tongue at him, then blushed as she realised what she'd done.

The shop bell tinkled again, and Gold rolled his eyes.

"Loads of visitors today," he said dryly, and stiffened slightly as he noticed Tom and Leroy approaching. Belle stepped back, out of his line of sight.

"Mr Clark," said Gold calmly, as Tom shoved a piece of paper across the counter. "What's this?"

"It's a note from my doctor," said Tom thickly. "It says I've been too sick to work for the past two weeks, and that I'm on medication for a chest infection."

Gold's cheek twitched slightly, but other than that he made no move. "And this concerns me how?"

"It's in the contract," said Leroy. "Clause 24, paragraph 2. One of the few exceptions to your two-week eviction right. Proven illness supported by a medical certificate. It means you have to give Tom an extra week."

Gold didn't look surprised. Belle imagined that he knew every clause of the contract backwards, but hadn't been expecting them to find this one. She bit her lip.

"It seems you've suddenly learned to read," he said calmly. "Either that or someone read it for you." He didn't turn, but Belle cringed anyway.

"So, what's the verdict?" asked Tom nervously, and Gold frowned.

"I expect the rent paid in full in two weeks, Mr Clark," he said coldly. "No excuses. Next time you may not have your guardian angel looking out for you."

Tom nodded vigorously. "I'll pay it, Mr Gold. Thank you."

The two men left, Leroy whispering under his breath about how he shouldn't be thanking the grasping old bastard, and the door shut behind them as they left. There was a moment of silence.

"Miss French, I thought you had no interest in contract law," said Gold mildly, and Belle squeezed her eyes shut.

"I don't," she said, and he chuffed in amusement.

"Pity," he said, and wandered through to the back room to make some tea.

* * *

**A/N: Yay for Belle.**

**Next time: a new school term starts, the leaves start to fall, and Belle finds some interesting historical facts.**


	10. Silver and Rubies

**A/N: There is some smut in this chapter, by the way.**

**Guest: you are most welcome for the one-shot!**

**Erik'sTrueAngel: I know, as a lawyer it really bugs me that people don't read contracts. At the start of 1x04 I was yelling at the TV screen and calling Cinderella an idiot.**

**AngelOfMusic44, Kiri Huo Ziv, AbbieWood, orthankg1, JosephineM, MyraValhallah, NeverIsTheEternal, Kiki Malone, NaraTemariS2, deweymay, PartyintheTARDIS12, Charlotte Ashmore, Twyla Mercedes, Grace5231973: thank you all for your comments. I'm so glad you're enjoying this story.**

* * *

Belle pushed her chin down into the collar of her blue coat as she left Granny's, wishing she had thought to wear one of her silk scarves. The wind was surprisingly cold for early September, and some of the leaves were already starting to spiral down out of the trees, orange and red. It was her last weekday working for Gold until the Christmas vacation, and she was going to miss spending so much time in Storybrooke. She knew her father missed having her at home, but she was growing to love the small town and the vast majority of its inhabitants. After some initial suspicion and no small amount of horror over a sweet and pretty young girl working for the town monster, the residents had largely embraced her. Since the incident with the contract, Leroy, Tom and their friends had been particularly friendly towards her, as though there was some unspoken bond between them from having gotten one over on Gold.

The young man called Jefferson had appeared the day after his apprehension in the shop, bending to kiss her hand extravagantly and earning a sharp reprimand from Gold and a giggle from Belle. He appeared very much alive and none the worse for wear, for which she was glad, and Gold hadn't fired her for yelling at him, so all in all she was pleased with the way things had turned out.

The wind picked up her curls and dumped them over her face as she made her way down the path, and Belle blew hair out of her mouth with irritation, wishing she had thought to wear a hat. She was carrying a cardboard tray with two coffees and a bag containing cinnamon Danish, breakfast for herself and Gold. Ruby was by the gate, having set out the _Open_ sign on the sidewalk, and was standing with a hand on her cocked hip, watching a small crowd of people making their way up the street to the outskirts of town, where Belle knew the university buildings stood. It was the first day of the new semester, and those without cars were hurrying along with backpacks full of books, bright-eyed and eager. Belle had a sneaky feeling that within a few months they would be looking drained, stressed and wired on caffeine, and felt a moment's sympathy for them. Followed by slight envy. She couldn't wait to go to college. She sidled up beside Ruby, who had a slight smirk on her face.

"What are you doing?" asked Belle curiously, and Ruby grinned, her eyes scanning the crowd.

"Just checking out the fresh meat," she said with relish, and Belle chuckled.

"You really are a disgrace, Ruby Lucas," she said affectionately, and Ruby's grin widened. She clutched Belle's arm suddenly.

"Oh my God, there's Viktor!" she whispered, pointing to a young man in his early twenties with short cropped blond hair. He was wearing slim-fitting black jeans and a pale blue shirt, a large medical textbook under his arm.

Ruby sighed, leaning into Belle. "Well, isn't he just a long tall drink on a hot day?"

He was handsome, Belle supposed, but there was a self-satisfied smirk on his face that she didn't like.

"Do you know him?" she asked, and Ruby pulled a face.

"Not really. I know he's studying to be a doctor, and this is his final year. He comes into the diner sometimes." She was gazing after the young man wistfully.

"Anyone else I should know about?" Belle said teasingly, and Ruby chortled.

"No way, honey, I'm keeping them all to myself! It's always good to check out the newbies when school starts up again."

Belle giggled. "Did you see Snow yet?"

"Yeah, she came in with Emma before you were even up."

"And?" Belle grinned at her friend. "Did she mention anything about a certain someone's birthday?"

Ruby blushed a little, unusual for her. "She can make it. Emma can only come for a couple of hours, though. She has an early shift." She grabbed Belle's arms, making the coffee wobble dangerously. "Oh, it's gonna be so much fun! I can't _wait _to take you guys to the Rabbit Hole!"

"We would never miss the celebration of the birth of The Ruby," Belle assured her, and submitted to a hug, laughing. "Okay, honey, I'd better go. Mr Gold won't thank me if his coffee's cold."

Ruby pulled back, still looking excited. She took Belle's arm and turned her in the direction of the shop. "Go on, I'd better get on shift before Granny drags me inside."

"Wouldn't make a good first impression on your potential boyfriends," agreed Belle, nodding to the passing students. Ruby grinned wickedly.

"No, but the little red skirt I bought yesterday should," she said with satisfaction, and Belle rolled her eyes with a grin.

* * *

Belle entered the shop, the bell tinkling its usual greeting as she opened the door, and Gold looked up with a little slanting smile from where he was writing something in one of his ledgers.

"Good morning, Miss French," he said, in his formal manner, and gestured to the paper bag. "And what is today's attempt to sabotage my waistline?"

"Cinnamon Danish," she said, with a grin. "Trust me, I'll help you eat them."

She carried the coffees and pastries through to the back room, and he followed her with a slight smirk, his cane tapping on the floor. It had become something of a ritual for them; he told her she didn't have to be there until eight-thirty, she turned up at ten to eight every morning with coffee and something sweet, and they sat at the work bench in the back room, talked, and ate what she had brought, until Gold flipped the shop sign to _Open_. She was going to miss her early morning conversations with him; she would only have them at weekends for the next few months.

Belle slid onto a stool, tearing open the bag and breaking off a piece of cinnamon Danish. She popped it into her mouth as Gold sat down, closing her eyes momentarily at the sweet, buttery pastry and the pungent taste of spice. He picked up his own, biting into it delicately and scattering crumbs on himself. Belle reached across and brushed at his suit pants, making him eye her amusedly. She blushed, sitting back and nibbling at her Danish.

"I have something new for you to look at," he announced, his eyebrows quirking at her slightly. There were tiny flakes of pastry sticking to his lips, a slight glaze of sugar making them moist and inviting, and Belle squirmed in her seat, suddenly wanting to lick the crumbs from his mouth. She picked up her coffee and took a sip to hide her blush.

"What is it?" she asked, when she felt it was once more safe to meet his eyes. He took another bite, licking his fingers and picking up a leather-bound book from the bench.

"Here. Doc lent it to me. Transcribed from the original writings. An account of the noble families of Avonleigh, from the Norman Conquest through to the end of the fourteenth century. I thought you'd find it interesting. There are some characters in there." He grinned at her, but it seemed a little forced, and Belle put her head to the side, eyeing him curiously.

"What is it?" she asked, and he went very still, his face suddenly blank.

"Nothing. Some of the writings…you may find some of it upsetting. The things people did, in those days. The way they dealt with anyone – different…" He shrugged, picking up his coffee. "Harsh times."

"I'll read it," said Belle eagerly. "It's in English, then?"

"It is." He wagged a finger at her. "This is not work, Belle. Reading for pleasure only. We must take it where we find it, don't you think?" He smirked at her, and she returned his smile.

"I'm going to miss coming here so often," she said regretfully, looking around the shop. She shot him a look, suddenly shy. "I'm going to miss – our conversations." _You. I'm going to miss _you_. Seeing you every day. How your eyes make me feel as though I'm burning and freezing and how I want you to touch me and how I want so badly to kiss you and…_

"Belle?" His voice made her start, and she hoped she hadn't been speaking aloud.

"Sorry, I drifted off." She tried to think of a way to change the subject. "Oh! Do you know it's Ruby's birthday next week?"

"I was not aware." He took a sip of coffee. "Have you bought her a gift?"

"No. I wondered…" Belle gave him a quick look. "Could I maybe look for something from here? There are so many beautiful things – I just know I'll find something."

"But of course." His smile widened. "You may, after all, be the only customer I have today. How could I possibly refuse?"

* * *

He left Belle watching the store while he gathered what he needed from one of the display cabinets at the front of the shop, and, after a moment's thought, one of his many boxes in the back room. Picking up a black velvet-covered board, he carefully set out the pieces he had collected together. Silver earrings set with amber, a bracelet engraved with a pattern of roses intertwined with thorns, a gold locket with a tiny pearl. There were a dozen pieces in all, and he placed them carefully, praying that she would choose the right one, that a part of her would remember.

"Here we are, then." He carried the tray over to the counter, and Belle bent over it eagerly.

"Oh! They're all so pretty!" Her face had lit up, and he couldn't help smiling in response. She picked up a ring in the shape of a snake, curling back and forth like a sidewinder, then set it down and held up a pair of earrings set with black opal. Gold watched her intently, and so noticed the moment when her focus changed. Her face became oddly intense, and she reached out slowly to pick up the piece he had wanted her to, a keychain wrought beautifully in silver, in the shape of a wolf. Its head was erect, its nose raised as if to sniff the air. Its four feet were placed evenly, its stance a little wary, tail slightly raised, ears pricked forwards. Its fur was picked out in tiny lines, its muscles defined, and its eyes were tiny chips of ruby, almost glowing in the light of the lamp beside her.

"It's perfect," she whispered, and Gold smiled.

"Miss Lucas likes wolves, then?" he asked, and Belle started, almost dropping the piece.

"What? Oh…I don't know, I just feel…" She shook her head. "She'll love it, I just know it."

"It's solid silver," he said, feeling very pleased with himself, and with her. "Those are rubies in its eyes. A fine piece. Victorian. The key chain was added towards the end of the last century, but it doesn't detract too much from the beauty of it."

Belle turned it over and over in her hands. The silver wolf gazed up at her, ruby eyes gleaming.

"I don't think I can afford this," she confessed.

"Nonsense" said Gold briskly. "I find myself – quite _moved_ by your enthusiasm, Miss French. I feel a strange and overwhelming urge to make you a deal you couldn't possibly refuse."

He was grinning at her, and she raised her eyes to his, smiling back at him with her perfect mouth before hooding her gaze with her lids, dark lashes fluttering.

"You know, you can be incredibly sweet sometimes," she said, and he showed his teeth.

"Don't tell anyone."

"Worry not, Mr Gold." To his great surprise, she leant over and kissed his cheek, a brief press of her soft lips, a hint of her perfume. "Your secret's safe with me."

She went into the back room to get her purse, but a glance over her shoulder saw him standing and looking a little dazed. Gently, he put his fingertips to the place where she had left her kiss, as though he would keep it, and press it to his heart.

* * *

Belle arrived home late on Sunday evening, tired but happy, with Ruby's promise of a girls' night out at the Rabbit Hole the following Friday, and the prospect of seeing Gold at his office the next day. She had buried herself in the new book that Gold had found for her, and had scarcely looked up from it on the journey home, much to his apparent amusement. It was fascinating; some of the old families were mentioned in the documents she had been translating, and the contents of the book brought them to life. There was an account of the Beauchamp family, who had come over with the Norman Conquest and were still living in Avonleigh at the time of the plague. Belle had scoured those pages eagerly. She was particularly moved by the account of one woman, written by one of the monks of the nearby monastery. Isabelle Beauchamp had been the daughter of the Earl, and was praised by Brother Philip for her work with the poor, for healing and visiting the sick. The account stopped some time in 1349, and Belle realised with dread that the plague must have ravaged the town. Perhaps the monk and Lady Isabelle had also succumbed to the illness. She closed the book with a sigh, setting it down on her bedside table, and turned off her lamp. The next time she saw Mr Gold, she would ask whether he had anything further on the Beauchamp family.

* * *

_Lady Isabelle Beauchamp shook out her chestnut curls, staring into the mirror before her. She could hear the faint sounds of music from the great hall below, and adjusted the skirts of her dark green kirtle, admiring the way it draped her slim figure. She had filled out a little in the past year; her body was definitely that of a woman's, now that she was a few months from turning eighteen. She liked the colour very much, and the fullness of the skirts, but the way it accentuated her breasts and hips was a painful reminder that she was seen as nothing more than a potential brood mare with a title and the riches that came with being the Earl's only daughter. She shivered slightly; the fire was crackling, but it was December, and snow lay thickly on the ground outside the castle. She sighed, wishing she didn't have to attend the festivities._

_"Your jewels, milady," said Hannah deferentially, and Isabelle turned, allowing the maid to fasten a gold chain set with rubies around her slender neck._

_"I suppose the servants will be having their own feast," she said, looking up at Hannah. "Hot spiced mead and dancing in the kitchens?" The young girl blushed and giggled a little as she brushed her mistress's hair, twisting some of it up on top of her head, and Isabelle smiled at her._

_"The cook overheard Sir Anthony saying that the Earl of Salisbury's here, milady," said Hannah, deft fingers fastening tiny golden ornaments into Isabelle's dark hair that swung and caught the light._

_"Yes," sighed Isabelle gloomily. "Mother expects me to dance with him, no doubt." She smoothed her skirts awkwardly. She knew what she wanted to do that night, and it certainly didn't involve the Earl of Salisbury. She wanted to ride to Avonleigh and find Rum and shut the door of his house behind her. She wanted to drink mulled mead until she was dizzy and kiss him senseless in front of the fire. She wanted to let him open up her dress and kiss her breasts, like he had the other day. The memory made her a little hot around the face, and she moved away from Hannah almost before the maid had finished._

_"You've worked hard, Hannah," she said warmly, looking at her reflection, and turned to grasp the maid's hands and give them an affectionate squeeze. "Go and enjoy yourself. I shan't need you again tonight."_

_Hannah beamed with delight, making Isabelle smile, and began picking up the few items of discarded clothing as her mistress left the room and swept down the cold stone stairs to the great hall. The sounds of music grew louder, and the raucous laughter of her father's knights spilled out as she approached. Isabelle took a deep breath. She had stayed away as long as she could. She lifted her head and entered the hall, her eyes going immediately to her mother, who was seated on the top table with an empty chair next to her, the place reserved for Isabelle herself. On the other side of the chair sat a tall, grim-looking man, who Isabelle recognised as the Earl of Salisbury. He was dark-haired and solidly-built, and she supposed some might consider him good-looking, but there was a cruel twist to his mouth that she didn't care for. He was a hard man, a seasoned warrior, and harsh to his servants, she was told. His first wife had died without producing an heir, and Isabelle knew that her parents favoured a match between them. She hoped to put it off for as long as possible. Her mother's apathy had proved to be Isabelle's greatest ally in this._

_She slid into the chair between the Earl and her mother, and nodded politely at his formal greeting._

_"I was beginning to think you'd fallen asleep," said her mother listlessly, pushing a piece of meat around on her plate without really eating it. "Have something to eat."_

_Glad for something to do, Isabelle helped herself to slices of venison and roasted vegetables. Her eyes scanned the room, running along the huge tables to either side of theirs. The local nobility were nearby, of course, and the Bishop of Umberleigh, who sat on the other side of the Earl. Isabelle quite liked the Bishop; he was a jolly man who treated the poor with compassion and understanding. Beside him was the Prior, an odious man with small, ratty eyes and a generous lower lip that was permanently wet. He made Isabelle's skin crawl. On the side tables sat the knights that belonged to the Earl and to her father. Many were already drunk, some banging the tables with flagons and calling for more ale. Servants darted here and there, the women trying to keep out of the way of pinching fingers, long-suffering expressions painted on their faces._

_Something made Isabelle look up briefly, and her mouth fell open as she saw Rum enter the room, ahead of the Guild masters from the town. He was dressed in his finest red wool, embroidered in gold, and looked more like one of the nobles than a commoner. She wondered which of the lordlings he'd taken money from this time. His eyes met hers, and he smiled briefly, his eyes dark and knowing. She turned to her mother._

_"I didn't realise the Guild was coming this evening," she said, a little breathlessly, and her mother gave a languid shrug._

_"Sir Anthony suggested it," she said, sounding bored. "It's of no consequence to me, as long as they know their places."_

_"The alderman's an impertinent fellow," said the Earl abruptly, glowering down the room at Rum. "He stopped two of my men from beating one of the peasant children today."_

_Isabelle turned to him in outrage. "Well, I should think so!" she said hotly. "Why were they beating a child?"_

_He met her eyes properly for the first time, the coldness in them making her shiver. "The child stole," he said bluntly. "What were they supposed to do?"_

_"Times are hard for the people, in winter," protested Isabelle. "There are orphans in the town with no one to care for them. They see strangers with fine horses and plenty of food, while they're cold and hungry. It's not surprising they take the odd loaf of bread. They need charity, not violence."_

_The Earl grunted, turning back to his cup of wine. "You have a woman's soft heart, my Lady," he said, as though it were something to be ashamed of. "When the mob rises up and decides it doesn't want to stop with stealing your bread, will you be so understanding?"_

_Isabelle scowled, turning away. That was possibly the longest conversation she had ever had with the Earl, and it made her even more determined not to marry him. She sneaked a look at him as he drank his wine, noting his large hands with dark hairs sparsely coating the stubby fingers. She tried to imagine what it would feel like to have him touch her, and shuddered to herself. No. She would not marry him._

_She turned her attention back to her plate, realising that she had finished the venison. The Earl offered her a dish of trout cooked with sorrel, and she helped herself in silence, nodding her thanks as one of the servants filled her cup._

_The presence of the clergy did not prevent the castle seeing some entertainment, and Isabelle was relieved when musicians set up and the floor was cleared of stray benches, allowing dancing to take place. She was dreading the Earl's attention, but he seemed to be happy eating his way steadily through the roasted boar. It fell to one of her father's knights, Sir Guy, to eagerly ask for her hand, and Isabelle made her way to the floor with some of the other ladies of the court, catching Rum's eye and noting his slanting grin._

_In the end it was not too bad; Sir Guy only stood on her feet three times, which was a definite improvement on the last occasion, and she got to see Rum watching her with a hunger in his gaze that made her stomach clench. Eventually she backed away from the dancing, claiming tiredness, and shook her head with a laugh as Sir Guy pleaded for her hand again. She made her way to where the servants waited with brimming flagons and was served a cup of mead by a blushing boy of twelve. She turned back towards the hall, sipping at her mead and scanning the crowd for Rum. Where was he?_

_"I see you're determined to drive me out of my mind, my Lady." His voice made her smile, and she tried not to look at him, tried to maintain the distance that she, as the Earl's daughter, was supposed to keep from the town spinner. All of the townsfolk knew of their friendship, of course, but none of them knew exactly how well-acquainted they were, and she intended to keep it that way. She had no desire to see Rum flogged, or worse. She imagined it would be worse if the Earl's men ever caught him touching her._

_"Is it that I'm not dancing with you, or merely that I'm dancing with another?" she asked airily, and could feel his grin._

_"Both, of course," he admitted. "But you should probably dance with him again. Your future betrothed doesn't look like the kind of man who enjoys himself. Bold Sir Guy may be your only chance."_

_Isabelle wrinkled her nose. "He stands on my feet. And his breath smells."_

_Rum surprised her by stepping in front of her. She ran her eyes over him, a blush rising in her face at the fire in his gaze. He put his mouth near her ear, his hair tickling her face._

_"I think you should dance with him," he whispered, his voice a low buzz that sent shivers down her spine. "I think you should dance with him, and all the time you're with him, I want you to think about what I did to you the other day."_

_Isabelle's breath caught in her throat, and he straightened up with a grin. "And how much I want to do it again," he added, and raised his cup to her before he sauntered away, leaving her standing with quickening breath and a pounding heart. She tried to rid her mind of the memory of his long fingers unfastening the laces of her kirtle, and his soft mouth on the firm mounds of her breasts, his stubble grazing her skin, his fingertips plucking at her nipples as she writhed in his arms. She glared after him, snatching up her cup of mead and sloshing half of it over her hand._

* * *

_Four hours later, Isabelle wrenched open her bedroom door with a sigh, kicking off her silk slippers. Her feet were aching, she was tired, and irritated by having to make inane conversation with the Earl and his knights. Rum had disappeared half an hour ago, and she was annoyed with him for not saying goodbye. She had tried to leave herself, but had been forced to wait until her mother said she could go, which turned out to when Lady Marie herself went to bed. Isabelle almost wished she hadn't given Hannah the night off; a warm bath would have been welcome. She pushed the door shut behind her, and almost screamed as a figure loomed out of the darkness. An arm went around her waist, a hand pressing over her mouth, and Isabelle struggled for a moment before she recognised his scent._

_"Easy, my Lady," he breathed in her ear. "You don't want to bring the guards down on us."_

_She relaxed in his grip, turning to face him and stepping backwards out of his arms._

_"What are you doing here" she whispered furiously, straightening her dress, and Rum leant back against the door, arms folded across his chest with an amused smirk on his face._

_"I wanted to see you," he said simply. "I've missed you, little Belle."_

_She put her hands on her hips, attempting a stern look but failing. "I've missed you," she said. "But if they catch you in my bedroom you'll be flayed alive."_

_He chuckled, pushing away from the door and putting his hands on her upper arms._

_"That's not an exaggeration," she protested, looking up at him. "Mother wants me to marry the Earl. I might be able to stall her until Father returns, but any stain on my character, and…"_

_"And he'll refuse to marry you," he finished, with a grin, flicking his hair back. "Looks like I'm doing you a favour."_

_She sighed, leaning in so that she could feel the heat from his chest._

_"I'm afraid for you," she said sadly. "If someone comes in…"_

_"They won't," he whispered, bending to press his lips against her throat. "Everyone's drinking, or fucking, or both."_

_She shivered at his words, pressing herself to him more closely, and he kissed his way up her neck to her mouth, his arms pulling her tight against him. She melted in his arms, his mouth soft against hers, his tongue parting her lips, devouring her. Eventually she pulled back with a sigh, moving away from him._

_"Hannah left some mead," she said, gesturing to the jug by the fire, and he bent towards the flames, pulling out the iron_ _poker and plunging it into the jug to heat the spiced mead. A warm, heady fragrance filled the room, and Isabelle breathed it in. She looked at him, silhouetted in the flames, his eyes gleaming at her, the gold thread in his tunic catching the light. His dark eyes were soft and filled with love as he gazed at her, and she felt her breath catch, wanting to touch him, wanting him to kiss her again. She loved him so much it was almost painful, and having to keep up the public pretence of indifference was killing her._

_"I wish this was our life," she said suddenly. "I wish I could be with you and sit by the fire and drink mead. I wish I didn't have to live in this castle and primp and preen and pretend to be an idiot to make the men around me feel better."_

_Rum sat back on his heels, holding up the jug. "Well, we can satisfy at least one of those wishes," he offered, and Isabelle smiled, picking up the goblet Hannah had left and crossing to the fire. He stood, pouring for her, and they took it in turns to take sips of the hot mead, Isabelle sighing in pleasure as she tasted the fragrant flavours of honey and heather, a faint hint of cloves. Eventually Rum put down the goblet, and reached up to cup her face, his thumbs stroking her skin. Isabelle felt a little dizzy._

_"Take down your hair," he said gently, and Isabelle blushed, reaching up to unfasten the golden ornaments Hannah had wound through the knot of hair. She placed them carefully on the table, shaking her dark curls loose, and he looked at her for a long moment, running his fingers through the ends._

_"Beautiful," he whispered, and pulled her to him, gently lowering his mouth to hers. Isabelle moaned, letting her hands push through his hair. She could feel his fingers on the laces at her bosom, and her heart beat a little faster. He unfastened the kirtle agonisingly slowly, one of his hands sliding inside to cup her breast. His tongue slipped into her mouth, gently teasing her, and she clutched at him, her fingers sinking into the red wool of his tunic. Isabelle gasped as_ _his hand squeezed her, his thumb rubbing over her nipple through her linen chemise. Rum pulled his mouth from hers and kissed down her neck, making her moan and press herself against him as his touch sent shivers through her. She felt him smile, and he pulled back slowly, running his eyes over her._

_"Let me see you," he breathed, and she nodded fiercely, biting her lip as he pushed the fine green wool from her shoulders, down her arms and over her hips, leaving her in her chemise. The gown pooled on the floor, and Isabelle's arms flew up to cross over her breasts, her face reddening. He shook his head._

_"No shame, my love," he whispered, and slid his thumbs under the straps of the chemise, pushing it from her shoulders and baring her to the waist. Isabelle gasped as he bent his mouth to her, his hands cupping her, his tongue circling her hardened nipples. Her fingers sank into his soft hair, holding him there, his attentions causing a tugging sensation deep in her belly, a tightening of her skin as he suckled at her._

_"You are so beautiful, my Belle," he breathed. "So beautiful. I want to see all of you. I want to touch you…"_

_He pulled back suddenly, his eyes darker than usual, and wrenched his tunic over his head, followed by the linen shirt he wore beneath it, leaving him clad in his soft brown leather breeches. Isabelle's eyes widened. She had seen him shirtless once before, when they had first met, when she was a silly girl of fourteen. She had fallen in love with him not long after, but since he had first kissed her on her seventeenth birthday they had not done anything like this. His skin was smooth and tanned a light brown, sparse hairs on his chest. Hesitantly, she reached up to touch him, her fingertips sliding over his warm skin and causing him to let his head roll back, a low noise rumbling up from his chest that made her clench deep in her groin. She felt a little nervous._

_"What are you doing?" she asked, as he pulled her close once more, and let her head roll back as he kissed his way down her neck and back up to her ear._

_"I want to show you something," he whispered. "I won't hurt you, I promise."_

_"I know you won't." She allowed him to push her backwards towards the bed, and let out a small giggle as she lay down, pulling him with her. His mouth felt incredible on her skin, his fingers plucking at her nipple, causing a strange sensation to shoot through her to her groin._

_"Remember what I said about stains on my character," she admonished, and felt him smile against her._

_"I won't be taking your maidenhead, my Lady," he said wryly, and ran his tongue down her belly before looking back up at her with a wicked grin. "Not tonight, anyway."_

_Isabelle wanted to tell him that for him to take her was impossible, that she wanted nothing more than to marry him, but that her father would never allow it. She wanted to tell him how much she longed to be his in every possible way, but he was moving down her body and tugging up her chemise, and she was suddenly unable to speak. She felt his hands on the smooth skin of her inner thighs, his hair tickling her as he kissed his way up her legs. He carefully pushed the thin linen up to her belly, exposing her to his gaze, and she felt suddenly self-conscious. She could feel his hot breath on her._

_"Rum…" she began, and then he lowered his mouth to her, to the tender place between her thighs. It felt strange at first, soft kisses on her nether lips, but then his tongue flickered out, sliding between them, and Isabelle rose up off the bed with a squeak of surprise._

_"What are you doing?" she exclaimed, and he raised his head._

_"Lie back down, little Belle," he said soothingly. "Trust me."_

_"I do." She met his eyes, was comforted, and let herself relax back onto the bed._

_The next time he kissed her, she was ready for it, and as his tongue slipped gently between her folds she let out a moan of pleasure at the sensation he caused. Her hands dropped to his head, sliding through his hair as his tongue slipped and swirled against her flesh. Isabelle had never heard of a man and woman doing this; she was aware of what was supposed to happen on her wedding night, of course: the kitchen servants could be surprisingly frank about such things if you simply asked them, but none of them had mentioned this. Dimly, she wondered how he knew how to do it, and felt an unexpected surge of jealousy as she realised that he must have had others before her._

_She put it from her mind, unable to concentrate on anything but the feelings that were rising up within her. He was licking her in a steady rhythm, keeping time with her panting breath and the beat of her heart, and she knew that something was going to happen, something incredible. She felt as though her entire body was tightening and stiffening, a tide of bliss rising through her, as though a wave was about to break over her if she could only…_

* * *

Belle woke with a start, wondering if she had cried out in her sleep. Her entire body was throbbing, her face flushed, and reaching down between her legs she found herself wet. It appeared that Gold was guest-starring in her dreams again. She was unsurprised that she had dreamt of being Isabelle Beauchamp, given what she had been reading prior to falling asleep, but she couldn't recall reading anything about an upstart alderman named Rum. As fantasies went, however, it was perfectly acceptable. He had looked particularly fine in those leather pants and nothing else…

* * *

**A/N: Bless Belle and her 'dream'. I'm so looking forward to getting these two together for real.**

**Next time: Ruby's birthday. Should be fun!**


	11. Birthday Girl

**A/N: Loved all your comments about Isabelle for the last chapter! More past life stuff to come (it's the only way I can validly incorporate smut, after all, but I do intend to have plot points in there too :)**

**Guest: yes, I will be putting Cerin and Elena in this fic. I have a prompt or two to answer in that regard. Plus there will be more on Lira and Cameron.**

**NaraTemariS2, Kiri Huo Ziv, crazykat77, thecadencerose, AngelOfMusic44, Grace5231973, MyraValhallah, deweymay, RaFire, jewel415, anawake14, Erik'sTrueAngel, orthankg1, Twyla Mercedes, NeverIsTheEternal, CharlotteAshmore: you are all awesome!**

* * *

Belle looked forward to Ruby's birthday with rising excitement. It had been a long time since she'd been to a birthday party that she actually wanted to attend. The fact that it was just her and her three friends at the only club in Storybrooke was an added bonus. She managed to get through Friday without losing her concentration too much, and was unusually talkative in the car on the way to Storybrooke, making Gold eye her with amusement as he went through his paperwork.

"You should take care tonight," he advised, when she paused for breath. "There are questionable types down at that fire hazard of a club. I've threatened to close the place down on three occasions."

"Please don't close it down until after Ruby's birthday," pleaded Belle, and he smirked at her.

"A reprieve until Saturday morning," he assured her gravely, and Belle grinned.

"I hope she likes my present," she said anxiously, clutching her purse, which held the silver wolf in a tiny box, tied with a red satin bow. Gold put down his pen, leaning towards her a little. His eyes were very dark, his expression knowing, and she felt her stomach flip as he smiled at her.

"Miss Lucas will love it," he said gently. "If there's a reaction other than her hugging you harder than you've ever been hugged, feel free to ask me for your money back."

Belle beamed at him, settling back in the seat as Dover steered the car across the Storybrooke town line.

* * *

Ruby was a mass of excitement as she met Belle at the door of the inn, and practically snatched her suitcase from Dover, grabbing Belle by the hand and pulling her upstairs. Belle gave Gold a rueful smile over her shoulder as she disappeared up the stairs, and her last sight of him was of his amused smile, his fingers laced over the top of his cane.

"Snow and Emma will be here soon," announced Ruby, pulling Belle into her room. "What are you wearing? I have a new red dress that I _need _to sneak out in. Granny'll flip if she sees me in it."

Belle privately doubted that; Ruby's outfits were getting more revealing by the day, but Granny didn't seem to do anything beyond glare disapprovingly over the top of her glasses.

"I have a new skirt," she said, and opened up her case, pulling out a short, flared black skirt with a lace overlay. She had a cap-sleeved blouse to go with it in black silk, and Ruby exclaimed over it.

"Oh, it's pretty! Come on, let's get dressed!"

Belle was buttoning her shirt when Ruby finished donning her dress, a hot red silky slip that skimmed her slender figure and looked good against her pale skin.

"Wow," said Belle approvingly. "You look great!"

Ruby preened. "You don't turn seventeen every day," she announced. "We're gonna knock 'em dead, girl!" Suddenly, with a crafty expression on her face, she reached under the bed and pulled out a bottle of wine.

"Where did you get that?" asked Belle, eyes wide, and Ruby giggled.

"Downstairs. I didn't steal it!" she added hastily. "Leroy bought it for me. Told me not to tell Granny, which of _course _I won't. Want a glass?"

Belle rolled her eyes. "Alright. No drinking in this club though, okay?"

"Oh, no worries there," said Ruby, deftly uncorking the wine. "You need your wits about you in that place. We're on the soft stuff all night, honey, so make the most of this!"

She poured two glasses, and Belle clinked her own against her friend's. Ruby put her glass down on the nightstand and threw herself onto the bed with a sigh. After a moment, Belle climbed on beside her, crossing her feet and sipping at her wine. She had drunk wine on a few occasions, with her parents, but never more than a glass on New Year's Eve, or something. It tasted good, like black cherries, and she let it warm her throat as it slid down, her head falling back against the headboard.

"I'm hoping there'll be some new people for you to meet tonight," said Ruby, drawing her knees up and flexing her feet. Belle looked interested.

"Oh? More Storybrookers I haven't seen yet?"

Ruby wrinkled her nose. "Students. I meet a lot of them in the diner. There are a couple that are pretty cute. Viktor and his friends are pretty delicious."

Belle looked doubtful, and Ruby nudged her. "Come on! A little flirting would do you good. There are some hot boys in town this year."

Belle pulled a face. "Count me out. You go for it, though. I wouldn't want to stand in the way of potential birthday kisses." She grinned at her friend, taking a sip of wine.

"I can't indulge in kisses if my girls aren't having fun!" protested Ruby. "Seriously, Belle! These guys are good-looking, smart, and have enough money to eat at Granny's rather than root through dumpsters, so all things considered, how could we possibly lose?"

"I don't like boys," said Belle dismissively, taking another drink, and Ruby chortled.

"Since _when_? You're always pointing out guys you think I'd like. Bonus points for Jefferson, by the way, he's delicious! Probably too old for me, but seriously biteable."

She raised her eyes to the ceiling with a blissful expression, and Belle giggled, before Ruby looked at her sternly.

"Come on, missy! Don't interfere with Auntie Ruby's matchmaking service!"

"I don't like _boys_," said Belle patiently, hoping that her friend would take the hint. Ruby's eyes widened.

"Oh? I had no idea?" She was only momentarily flustered. "Did I introduce you to Mei-Ling? She's kinda cool, and she's into girls. I bet she could hook you up."

"What?" Belle was confused, then realised that Ruby had taken entirely the _wrong_ hint. "Oh! No, I don't mean I'm gay, I meant…" She bit her lip, her eyes straying to the window. "I meant I don't like _boys_."

"You mean you like _men_, you vixen!" chuckled Ruby triumphantly. "Well, I'm all for a bit of older-guy action myself. Who is it? No, no, let me guess…" She chewed her lip, pondering. "David? He's pretty cute. Nah – he's only a few years older than us. What about Viktor?" Ruby held up an admonitory finger. "Whom you can_not_ have, by the way, his ass is mine!"

Belle was giggling. "No, it's no one like that." She looked down at her hands, her fingers tugging at a loose thread on the coverlet. Ruby nudged her.

"'Fess up, Belle, you have a thing for that old professor, don't you?" she said, with mock seriousness, and Belle burst out laughing.

"Ew! I love Doc, but ew!" She waved a hand. "Forget about it, I'm not even sure I want to talk about it anymore. It's stupid, it could never work out, and he's never even looked at me that way anyhow."

Ruby nodded and sat back a little, before suddenly lurching forward, eyes wide.

"Oh. My. God!" she said in a breathless whisper. "Belle, please tell me you're not serious!"

"Can't," said Belle miserably. Ruby stared at her for a moment, her lip curling incredulously.

"Mr Gold?" she asked. _"Seriously?"_

Belle nodded, and Ruby sat back again, still staring.

"But he's…" she protested. "He's…"

"I can't stop thinking about him," confessed Belle, blushing hard. "I even had a couple of sex dreams about him, Rubes."

"Really?" Ruby grinned wickedly. "I'll be asking you about those later, just to forewarn you. Come _on _Belle!" She shook her head. "The guy's a total asswipe!"

"Not to me," said Belle defensively. "He's never been anything but kind and generous."

"Because he wants to get in your pants, the sick old pervert," scoffed Ruby.

"I wish," grumbled Belle, and her friend burst out laughing.

"Oh, honey, this is too good not to share. We need Snow and Emma in on this one."

"Great. Two more people to know of my hopeless obsession," said Belle gloomily.

"Hold that thought," said Ruby sternly, slipping off the bed. "I'm guessing they'll be here any minute. Hide the wine while I'm gone."

"Fine," sighed Belle, flopping back onto the bed. Perhaps her friends could talk some bloody sense into her. She listened out for the sounds of feet on the stairs, and was rewarded after a short while by Snow and Emma's voices, almost drowning out an excitable Ruby.

"Okay, presents: check. Hot outfits: check. Hot ladies: check." Emma announced, as she entered the room. Belle sat up with a giggle. Emma looked stunning, her blonde hair curled and shining, her slender body clad in a tight black halter top and black leather pants with heeled boots. Snow was dressed somewhat more demurely in a lavender dress with cap sleeves and a neckline that showed some of her cleavage. Ruby danced over to the bed, snatching up the wine bottle and pouring for the others. Emma immediately scooted up the bed next to Belle and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Okay, Rubes, what's the plan?" she asked brusquely, and Ruby grinned.

"Dare I say presents first?" she asked eagerly, and Snow rolled her eyes.

"Figures," she said dryly. "Okay, honey, knock yourself out."

She dropped a bulging bag onto the bed next to Ruby, who squealed with delight and opened it up, pulling out a box wrapped in patterned red paper. She tore the paper off eagerly, and discovered that the box held a new pair of shoes, sky-high red sandals that had ankle cuffs and thin gold heels.

"These are from both of us," said Snow. "Too expensive for just one of us."

"Wow," said Ruby, in awed tones. "Where the hell did you get these, girls?"

Emma shrugged. "I could tell you, sweetie, but then I'd have to kill you."

Ruby immediately pulled on the shoes, admiring the way they lengthened her already sinfully long legs and showed off her shapely feet.

"Awesome!" she breathed. "I will be knocking them dead at the Rabbit Hole tonight. I love you guys!" She pulled Emma and Snow into a hug, squashing Belle in the process and making her giggle.

"Okay, my turn!" she said, feeling a little nervous. She knew that Mr Gold felt that the present was perfect, she just hoped Ruby thought so. She got up off the bed and went to fetch her purse, smiling as Ruby bounced up off the bed to meet her. Belle opened up her purse and handed Ruby the little box, and her friend bent over it excitedly, pulling off the ribbon and lifting the lid. Belle watched her anxiously.

"Oh my God!" breathed Ruby, picking up the silver wolf. "It's _beautiful_! Did I ever tell you how much I like wolves?" She turned to Belle with a wide smile, and Belle shrugged.

"No," she admitted. "I just – I saw it, and it…felt right, that's all."

"I _love _it!" Ruby caught her in a hug, squeezing her hard, and Belle hugged her back, laughing. Ruby pulled back, holding up the little silver wolf. "Oh, it's so gorgeous! Is it old?"

"Mr Gold says it's Victorian," offered Belle. "The keychain was obviously added later."

Emma whistled. "You bought that from Gold? I hope you paid for it. He's not one for generous credit terms."

Ruby suddenly looked up with a grin. "Maybe that's Belle's ingenious plan. Force Mr Gold to ask for payment in another way."

Emma and Snow exchanged puzzled looks. Belle glared at Ruby, then sighed and dropped her head.

"Okay, go on, you know you want to," she said resignedly.

"Belle's totally in love with Mr Gold," said Ruby, in a rush. "She has sex dreams about him, and she wants him to tie her up and screw her senseless, and totally wants to have his babies."

Snow burst out laughing, then clapped a hand to her mouth as she looked at Belle.

"Seriously?" said Emma disbelievingly, and Belle nodded, blushing.

"Not the tying me up thing," she added hastily, then smirked. "Well, probably not, anyhow."

Emma put her hands on her hips.

"You _have_ to be kidding me," she said flatly, and Belle squirmed.

"Don't be so judgemental," scolded Snow, stepping forward and taking Belle's hand. "Mr Gold is – well, kind of charismatic, you have to admit that."

"Yeah, but it's a character I often want to kick in the balls," remarked Emma, and Belle chuckled.

"So do I, on occasion," she admitted, and accepted a refill of her wine from Ruby with a sigh. "It's not as though anything would happen, anyway. He never looks at me like that."

"Well, of course he doesn't," said Emma, surprisingly. "You're sixteen. The guy doesn't want to get put inside for statutory rape, does he? Even if he wanted to take you hard over the shop counter, he'd have to bide his sweet time."

Ruby winced. "Thanks for that image, Emma."

Belle was frowning thoughtfully, rolling her glass between her fingertips. "I hadn't thought about that," she admitted, and Emma smiled ruefully.

"Trust me on this one," she said ominously. "You hit eighteen, it'll be a different story."

Belle bit her lip. "But how do I know if he likes me?"

"He's a man, right?" said Emma, gesturing with her wine glass. "He likes beautiful things, right? So, unless he's gay, and I don't get that vibe from Gold, I think it's safe to say he likes you."

"I don't know…" said Belle uncomfortably. "He's kind to me, that's all."

"And he's not kind to anyone else," nodded Emma. "See my point?"

"He probably thinks you could never be interested in him," offered Snow, in her usual insightful manner.

"Because that's what we're all finding a little weird, to be honest," added Emma, grinning over the top of her wine glass.

"So, just kind of – sidle up next to him," said Ruby, taking a hip-swaying step up beside Belle. She was grinning wickedly. "And then – ever so subtly – grab his ass." She slapped her hand against Belle's rump, making her start. Emma burst out laughing.

"I don't think the phrase 'ever so subtly' is something we associate with you, Rubes," pointed out Snow, and Ruby pulled a face.

"Don't say I never try to help out my girls in the art of seduction," she pouted.

"I'm not seducing him," sighed Belle. "I wouldn't know where to start, and besides, I don't want to get him in trouble."

"Good girl," said Emma briskly. "In the meantime, what do you say we get down to the Rabbit Hole and take your mind off things?"

Ruby squealed with delight, and Belle nodded readily. A night out with the girls was just what she needed.

* * *

The weather was turning colder, and Belle was pleased they had all thought to wear coats, their breath misting in the air as they walked arm in arm to the Rabbit Hole. Ruby led them inside, and Belle looked around curiously as they entered. The club wasn't as dim as she had been expecting; lights shone over the pool table and near the bar, but the rest of the place was fairly dark, with shadowy people huddling in the corners out of her line of sight. It smelt of spilled beer and cigarettes, and she couldn't help remembering Mr Gold calling it a fire hazard. She looked around for the fire exit, fixing it in her mind, just in case. It was just after eight, and the club was fairly quiet; several small groups of men crowded around the tables, or leant on the bar. Most of them were eyeing the group of girls as though they had no previous experience of viewing the female form, and Emma curled her lip.

"I see this place attracts the classiest of Storybrooke's inhabitants," she remarked loudly, and most of the men dropped their stares. Ruby snorted.

"Okay, girls, let's get a drink and some quarters for the pool table." She approached the bar, leaning on it with a wide grin as the bartender approached. He was in his mid-twenties, dark and fairly handsome, but there was a predatory gleam in his eye that Belle didn't trust. He wiped his hands on his apron before leaning on the bar to face them, his eyes running over them. Snow put a hand to her cleavage, blushing slightly, and Belle couldn't say she blamed her.

"Ladies," he said, drawing the word out. "What a pleasant surprise. Ruby, are you gonna introduce me to your gorgeous friends?"

"I guess so," said Ruby, uninterested. "Girls, this is Keith. He doesn't own the place, he just works here. Oh, and he still lives with his mom, by the way. I hear the 'house' he takes girls to is a place he caretakes for while the owner's out of town, so don't believe a word he tells you."

Keith glared at her, and she shot him a sweet smile.

"Okay, so this is Emma, Snow and Belle," she said. "They're my girls, so be nice, okay?"

"I'm always nice!" he complained, and bent over Belle's hand, his lips grazing her knuckles and his eyes running over her body and making her want to bathe. She snatched her hand back, and he smiled.

"So!" He clapped his hands together. "What can I get you ladies? First one's on me, since it's Ruby's birthday. I could make you a Cosmopolitan, or would you prefer Sex on The Beach?" He wiggled his eyebrows at Emma, who wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah, I think I'll just have a Coke," she said dryly.

"Make that two," added Snow.

"And what about you, my lovely?" Keith leant on the bar and ogled Belle. "You look like the kind of girl who'd appreciate a Cosmo."

"No thanks, no alcohol for me," said Belle awkwardly. "You know we're all underage, right?"

Keith shrugged. "What the boss doesn't know won't hurt him," he said, grinning at her. "Come on, Belle, you want to play with the big girls, right?"

"Hey, she said no!" said Ruby sharply. "You're not gonna make her do something she doesn't want to, okay? No alcohol!"

Keith held up his hands, attempting a pacifying tone.

"Hey, okay, it's cool!" he said soothingly. "I have the perfect thing. Invented it last week. It's called a 'virgin princess'. Let me make you one."

He turned his back to them, and Ruby watched him like a hawk as he started mixing together various soft drinks, adding crushed strawberries and finishing with cream. He presented the glass with a flourish, and Ruby nodded at Belle.

"It's okay," she said, and Belle took a drink, the sweetness of strawberries and cream on her tongue, with no hint of alcohol.

"It's really good," she said, surprised, and Keith grinned at her.

"See? I'm not the bad guy," he said, and Belle returned his smile as he began to make Ruby a drink.

* * *

The night passed enjoyably, the girls commandeering the pool table and playing rounds with one another. Belle was surprisingly good, Snow terrible, but Emma wiped the floor with all of them.

"Sign of a misspent youth, girls, so don't feel bad," she announced, chalking her cue as Ruby racked up another set of balls.

"You ladies fancy some company?" A young man approached the table, grinning widely, with very white teeth. He had short, dark hair, his eyes very blue, and he was dressed in tight black jeans and a leather jacket. Ruby was eyeing him with interest, and even Emma cast a glance over him before tossing her head with an indifferent expression.

"Thanks, we're good," she said, in a quelling tone, and the man turned his attentions to Belle.

"And what about you, love? Haven't seen you down here before."

"It's Ruby's birthday," ventured Belle, taking a step back from him.

"Ah, of course! Keith told me you were the birthday girl." The man bent over Ruby's hand, making her giggle, and Snow frown, before he straightened up. "Name's Hook. James Hook."

"I think that only works when it's 'Bond'," said Snow dryly, and he flashed a smile at her.

"Drinks for all you beautiful girls, what do you say?"

"No thanks," said Belle firmly, and he shrugged, and sauntered back over to the bar. Ruby was watching him surreptitiously.

"Good looking, but I get the feeling he's a creep," she said eventually.

"Yeah, hold onto that thought," said Emma, and hefted her pool cue. "Okay, Rubes, prepare to be amazed!"

She smacked the end of the cue into the ball, sending it into the balls with a loud crack and scattering them the length of the table. Ruby groaned, and drained her glass.

"At least give me a chance, Swan!" she complained, and Emma grinned as she started potting balls. Ruby rolled her eyes.

"Okay, my round," she announced. "Belle, give me a hand?"

Belle drained her own glass and followed Ruby to the bar, leaning against it as Keith finished serving another customer.

"So, you decided you wanted that drink after all," said Hook, sidling up next to Belle and grinning.

"We're buying our own, thanks," said Ruby, shooting him a sweet and insincere smile. He gave her a long-suffering look.

"Come on, don't let a man drink alone," he protested. "I'm excellent company, I assure you."

"No thanks," said Belle uncomfortably, and turned to Keith. "Four Cokes, please."

Hook leaned in towards her.

"You know, one little drink won't kill you," he wheedled.

"No, but I might kill _you _if you don't push off," snapped Ruby. "We said no. If you guys have a problem with that word I can always provide some emphasis with a swift kick to the crotch."

"Leave them alone, man," added Keith, and Belle shot him a grateful look.

Hook curled his lip, looking them over. "You two lesbians, or something?"

"So that's our choice?" asked Belle dryly. "You, or women?"

"Well, that's easy!" announced Ruby, and grabbed Belle's shoulders, pulling her close and planting a firm kiss on her mouth. Belle giggled as Ruby pulled back, slipping her arm around Belle's waist and snatching up her drink.

"Come on, honey," she said loftily, and sauntered back to the pool table, Belle casting a scathing look over her shoulder as they went. Hook turned back to Keith with a shrug.

"Told you," he said, taking a drink. "Couple of dykes."

* * *

The girls grew bored of pool, and as the evening progressed they started dancing to some of the songs that were blasting out of the speakers. Emma regretfully had to leave at ten; she was on the early shift the next day. Snow went with her, leaving Belle and Ruby alone and dancing to a rock song that Belle hadn't heard but that Ruby sang along to in a loud voice, swinging her hips and punching the air. Breathless with exertion, and giggling at Ruby's singing, they slid onto bar stools to give their aching feet a rest. Hook was on the stool next to Belle, but he said nothing, and Keith plonked a virgin princess down in front of each of them with a grin. Belle took a sip, savouring the sweetness. The drink was a little bitter in comparison to the last one she'd had, but it was still good.

"So, what work are you doing with Gold at the moment?" asked Ruby, toying with her straw. Belle bit into the whole strawberry that graced the side of her glass, chewing and swallowing before turning back to Ruby.

"Some of the stuff I'm translating is really interesting," she said, licking cream from her fingers. "It mostly seems to centre around this place called Avonleigh, in the north of England. Turns out there was a town there, and a monastery, around the time of the Black Death."

"Huh." Ruby took a drink, and pulled a face. "Not sure I like this. You want it? I think I'll stick with Coke."

"Sure." Belle waved at Keith and asked for a Coke for Ruby, and the dark-haired man slid a frosted glass across the bar to her with a toothy grin.

"So, why is Gold so interested?" asked Ruby, and Belle frowned.

"I'm not sure," she said slowly. "He says he wants the old documents translated, so he has a better idea of their value, but then he gave me this book, which is an English translation of some other documents from the same place. It all seems pretty ordinary, everyday stuff. There's this family that lived there in the castle, the Beauchamps. I think perhaps he's looking for information on them, but if he is, he's not telling me."

"Maybe he's a distant relative," offered Ruby, taking a sip of her drink. A bead of condensation fell onto her dress, and she brushed it off.

"Maybe," said Belle. She looked at Ruby somewhat self-consciously, feeling a strange loosening in her tongue. "One of my dreams was about Avonleigh – about Isabelle Beauchamp. I dreamt I was her."

Ruby chortled. "One of your sex dreams? Okay, spill!" She leaned forward avidly, and Belle giggled, blushing.

"Not much to tell. I dreamt I was her, and Mr Gold was the alderman, a commoner, a spinner. His name was Rum."

"Weird name," shrugged Ruby, then grinned. "A commoner, huh? So Milady was slumming it?"

Belle giggled again. "I guess. He came to my room, and did – stuff."

"Well, I've always been a big fan of – stuff," said Ruby wisely. "What kind of stuff are we talking about?"

Unable to say the words out loud, Belle leaned in and whispered in Ruby's ear, and her eyes widened.

"Awesome!" she breathed, and picked up her drink, wiggling her eyebrows. "I should probably let Mr Gold know he's such a stud."

"Don't you dare!" spluttered Belle, alarmed, and Ruby cackled with laughter.

"Honey, your smutty little secret is perfectly safe with me," she said reassuringly, and Belle returned her grin. Ruby patted her hand, slipping off the stool.

"Bathroom," she announced. "See you in five." She sashayed towards the bathroom, drawing the eyes of all the men in the club, and Belle watched her go with a fond smile, draining her glass and reaching for the one Ruby had pushed aside. There was a strange warmth running through her, and she was feeling a little dizzy.

"You okay, Belle?" Keith was watching her avidly, and Belle nodded.

"Fine, I think I'm just a little tired," she muttered.

"Drink a little more," he advised. "The sugar should perk you up."

She took another mouthful, pulling a face at the taste.

"What did you put in this?" she complained. "It tastes bitter."

"Well, that's just because you've been drinking Coke," he said, grinning widely, and Belle shot him a sudden, piercing glance.

"I'm getting out of here," she said decidedly, and slid from the stool, stumbling as her head began to swim. She clutched the edge of the stool, taking deep breaths, and was startled by arms around her waist, pulling her upright, and a gentle hand lifting her chin. She could smell cigarettes on the man's fingers, and wrinkled her nose.

"Woah, easy there!" said Keith, sounding concerned. "You okay?"

"Perhaps it's time to get you home," added Hook, appearing at her side, and Belle stared up at him through bleary eyes. Her head was pounding, and her legs didn't seem to want to hold her up.

"Hey, get off her!" snapped Ruby, striding up and glaring at Keith. He flashed her a smile.

"Come on, Ruby, I'm trying to help her. Girl can't take her drink, that's all."

"She didn't have anything to drink," said Ruby fiercely, and put her hands on her hips, realisation dawning on her face. "Unless you two creeps put something in her drink. Did you?"

"Of course not!" snapped Keith, as Hook held up his hands with an innocent expression.

"I feel bad," said Belle, in a small voice, and Keith hauled her up.

"I could kiss you better, baby, if you like," he offered, and she wrinkled her nose.

"What? Ew, no, you smell and you – you don't wear a suit!" Belle pushed at him, stumbling away, and Keith looked outraged. Ruby burst out laughing, catching Belle around the waist.

"Can't even get her to kiss you when she's drunk, huh?" she said cheekily. "I guess there's not enough vodka in the world to wash away the taste of sleaze."

He scowled at her then. "Get the fuck out of here, the both of you!"

* * *

Having just walked into the club, Jefferson watched with some amusement as Belle shoved the bartender away with a revolted expression. She stumbled a little as she did it, before Ruby grabbed her, and Jefferson reached into his pocket and fished out his phone, using his thumb to flick through his contacts and dial a number. He watched Ruby struggle to get Belle into her coat as he listened to the phone ringing.

"Yeah, it's me," he said, when he got an answer. "Looks as though your favourite girl's in a bad way. She's just leaving the club. Are you nearby, or do you want me to step in and take her home?" After a moment he nodded. "Okay, sure. See you in five."

* * *

Gold put his phone away with a grimace, snapping at Dover to swing by the Rabbit Hole immediately. He was grateful to Jefferson for letting him know of Belle's current state, and immensely pleased that he had chosen to lurk in the back streets of Storybrooke, rather than going home and drinking whisky, like he wanted to. Dover turned the Cadillac into the seedier streets of the town, where he never ventured unless it was to collect rent, and he saw the dingy lights of the club ahead of them, and the two girls stumbling out of the door into the cold night air. Dover slowed the car to a stop, and Gold got out, grounding his cane and pushing himself up off the back seat. He shut the car door behind him, walking towards the two girls, his cane tapping on the ground and making them turn their heads.

"Miss Lucas," he nodded, as Ruby broke into a wide smile at his arrival.

"Mr Gold! Thank God!"

"Highly unlikely," he said dryly, and gestured at Belle, who was holding onto Ruby and grinning at him. "It appears you two have had quite the evening."

"It was _awesome_!" Belle pulled out of her friend's arms, and threw herself on him, making him grunt at the impact. She giggled in his ear, and he could hear Ruby groan behind her.

"I'm so glad you're here," said Belle softly, and he swallowed hard.

"Belle…" sighed Ruby, shaking her head, and Gold hoped that she'd know what to do with her inebriated friend, because he hadn't a bloody clue. Belle slumped against him, making him lose his balance a little, and he put his arm around her to steady her. She giggled into his chest, breathing deeply and making his traitorous body start to react before he could think. Her head rolled backwards to gaze up at him with her huge blue eyes.

"You smell incredible, do you know that?" she asked, her words slurring slightly. Gold heard Ruby stifle a snort from beside him.

"Let's – let's get you home," he suggested gently, and Belle sighed, allowing him to turn her around and steady her with an arm at her waist. Gold spotted Jefferson lurking in the doorway to the club, and nodded to him gratefully, receiving a nod of acknowledgement from the young man. They began walking slowly, Ruby keeping pace with a grin on her face.

"I know no one likes you," went on Belle. "But _I_ do, Mr Gold. I _really, really _do." Her voice had taken on a dreamy quality.

"Well, that's nice…" he began, but she reached up and pressed her finger over his lips.

"Quiet! I'm talking!" she scolded. "I was saying…what was I saying?"

"I truly have no idea," he said quietly, around her finger.

"You weren't saying _anything_," added Ruby. "And if you have any sense it'll stay that way."

Belle wrinkled her nose at her friend. "Whatcha talking about? I'm telling Mr Gold how much I like him. I _really, really _like him." She let her head roll against his shoulder, but was silent for a moment as they edged nearer his car.

"I have dreams about you, you know," she said suddenly. Gold closed his eyes momentarily, but she wasn't finished. "In my dreams, you keep taking my clothes off. Either that or I go down on you. Or you go down on me. Is that weird?"

"Belle," said Ruby desperately. "For God's sake, _stop talking_!"

"Yes, please stop talking," added Gold. "Look, here's the car. Do you think you can get in on your own, Belle?"

"Of course I can, I'm not drunk!" she said indignantly. She stumbled as she turned, falling against his chest, and his hand tightened on her waist. She let her head roll back, her eyes closed, cheeks flushed and lips parted, and he tried very hard not to think that this was how she looked at the height of passion.

"Okay, I think I may be a _little _drunk," she murmured.

"Yes, dearest, I think that's a distinct possibility," he said kindly, and Belle giggled, batting her eyelashes at him.

"That virgin princess turned out to be a _total_ slut," she declared.

"What?" he asked weakly, and she shook her head, giggling. Her fingers were clutching at his chest, her breasts pushing against him and causing an uncomfortable tightness in his loins. He swallowed hard. He was reminded vividly of the time she had bumped into him on the way to the bathroom at her parents' house, when he had smelled her scent on her fingers and caught the fierce blush on her face. Thankfully she had run into the bathroom, leaving him to his raging desire. She had been touching herself, and from the expression on her face when she saw him, she had been thinking of him when she did it. It had taken him some time before he was ready to face her father again after that particular encounter. His treacherous mind immediately imagined her touching herself again, and he ruthlessly thrust the image from his brain before he could embarrass himself.

"Belle, get in the car," he said, a little more urgently, and she giggled, the sound melodious and somehow throaty, which did nothing for his self-control. "Now, please!" he snapped, and she smirked.

"Or what? You'll spank me?"

Whatever blood hadn't already rushed south immediately plummeted to his groin, and he clenched his jaw, his desire for her an almost physical pain.

"Ruby said you'd like to spank me," she went on, oblivious.

"No, I didn't!" lied Ruby, alarmed, and Belle giggled again, her fingers running over his chest, her eyes huge in her beautiful face.

"Are you gonna kiss me goodnight?" she mumbled, her voice low and seductive.

"Seriously, Belle, ew!" Ruby pulled her off him, and Belle made sounds of protestation as she was ripped away from him. He missed the warmth of her body, and told himself he was a bloody idiot, and a pervert to boot. He was grateful to Ruby, who bundled Belle into the back of the car, fastened her seatbelt for her and shut the door. She straightened up, and Gold fixed her with a cool stare.

"Whose idea was it to get drunk tonight, then, dearie?" he asked coldly. Ruby sniffed.

"I think she must have picked up someone else's drink. Either that or someone spiked hers. That bartender's a sleaze, and there was another guy…" She shook her head. "We didn't order any alcohol, Mr Gold, honest."

He eyed her, frowning, then nodded slowly, aware that she was telling the truth. "Good. Make sure you keep an eye on each other's drinks in future," he said calmly, and gestured towards the car. "Get in, Miss Lucas, I'll take you home."

Ruby hesitated. "Look, Mr Gold, thanks for being here, okay? You're as ridiculously overprotective as I am. Just – with a car, and stuff."

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she threw her hands up in the air and let them drop.

"I'm just saying it's useful, that's all."

"Well, I'm glad to be of service," he said dryly, and made to get into the car. Ruby clutched at his arm, and he raised an eyebrow at her wide-eyed stare.

"Please don't tease her about what she said," she pleaded, and Gold smirked.

"Not at all, Miss Lucas," he said. "I rely on you to do that."

* * *

**A/N: and the moral of the story is, don't let your drink out of your sight. Sleazebags.**

**Next time: Belle has a conversation with Mr Gold and gets the wrong impression about something.**


End file.
